


A Little Parenthesis in Eternity

by Tess_84



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 71
Words: 353,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tess_84/pseuds/Tess_84
Summary: Clarke Griffin is a Soul Keeper – which is really just a fancy word for someone who helps souls pass from this world to whatever’s next when people die. She’s been doing it for a century and a half by now and she likes it. She’s gotten to see a lot of the world and made some amazing friends along the way. All in all, it’s been a pretty good life.She’s also learned that getting involved with Norms – people who aren’t Soul Keepers and who are going to (grow old and) die at some point, unlike her – is not a good idea, despite what Raven keeps telling her.So when a stranger pulls her out of the way of an oncoming cab on a New York street and it feels like time stops and lightning strikes all at once when she meets his eyes, she quickly writes it off. He’s not a Keeper, so he’s off limits.But then they run into each other again two days later, and she starts to waver… until she sees his Number – 268, meaning he has less than nine months to live.She makes up her mind to stay away from him, despite the feelings that have already started growing inside her.If only it were that simple…
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 302
Kudos: 226





	1. Where the Changing of the Wind Don't Seem a Miracle at All

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, I’m back! A little later than I had originally planned – this story ended up much longer than I thought when I started writing it last fall. But now it’s pretty much done, currently being beta’d by my wonderful beta Liz (thanks again so much for all your help so far!), who you might know as Fathomless, so I figured it was time to start actually posting, even if it’s really scary, because this story is basically my baby. I’ve had the general idea in my head for over a decade, and when I was wrapping up “When every star…” last year, I started thinking it could work really well in The 100 universe, and here we are! I actually found about a page and a half on my computer when I started writing, and the bones of the story have remained the same, but it’s of course taken on a life of its own as well, branching out in lots of different directions that honestly surprised even me at times!
> 
> Anyway, time to get started with the story! As always, I don’t own anything relating to The 100. I’ve also decided to take a page from a couple of other writers that I’ve come across, who put any warnings at the end of the chapters, so you don’t have to read them first if you don’t want spoilers. If you do want to check them out, just go ahead and click more notes below!
> 
> The chapter title is from “New York City” by Among Savages. I picked the fic title pretty early on, and I really love it, but then I had a piece of lyrics from a song I also really wanted to use, so I just ended up using different song lyrics as chapter titles. Most of the time, they do have something to do with the story, or that chapter in particular, and I’ve even written at least one scene based on a song lyrics that I really wanted to use, but there are also a couple of chapters with random lyrics that are just from songs I like because I couldn’t find something that really fit.  
> OK, now I’m really done rambling! I hope you enjoy :)

We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust,  
swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity.  
Life is eternal.  
We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other,  
to meet, to love, to share.  
This is a precious moment.  
It is a little parenthesis in eternity

Paulo Coelho, _The Alchemist_

5th Avenue is busy as usual, and Clarke has to weave between cars when the light finally turns green, bumping into other pedestrians on her way across the street.

She loves New York, really, she does, but these days she often finds herself missing the city as it had been when she saw it for the first time, over a century ago. There were already tall buildings, but no automobiles, instead plenty of horse drawn cars and trolleys, and you could stroll down the street without having to constantly battle the other inhabitants for space.

Of course, there are many benefits to today’s New York too – Chinese food delivered to your door in the middle of the night, any show you can dream of as long as you’re prepared to go off _off_ Broadway, the light twinkling in the many glass skyscrapers on Manhattan when the sun sets over the East River, which she has an amazing view of from her apartment.

She can’t complain too much – she has the privilege to live in her absolute favorite city in the whole world once again.

Continuing into the park, she finishes the last of her coffee and tosses the empty paper cup in the trash.

Central Park is never empty, but at just after ten on a Monday morning in late October, it’s certainly not very busy, either. The morning joggers are long gone, safely ensconced in their fancy offices downtown, and the lunch rush won’t be along for another two hours or so. A couple of dog-walkers are doing their best to keep their charges from getting each other – and any innocent passersby – tangled in their leashes. Two older gentlemen are perched on one of the park benches to her right, reading _The New York Times_. As she passes them, they fold their respective sections in half simultaneously – one has the news, the other features – and switch, continuing their perusal of each other’s sections in silence. To her left, four young women pushing strollers talk animatedly in a language that Clarke quickly identifies as Russian. She doesn’t speak it herself, but she does have a basic understanding of it. Apparently one of the girls is unhappy with her employer, who forces her to work too many hours in the day and too many days in the week. Au pairs, Clarke concludes.

She continues up the steps to the memorial and leans against the railing, looking out over the reservoir and the park beyond.

Fall has finally come to the city, putting an end to another long, hot summer. The air has turned crisp and clear and the park is putting its best foot forward with a color show of every shade of yellow, orange and red imaginable – from palest gold to darkest burgundy.

It’s Clarke’s favorite time of year in the city.

She pulls her phone from her pocket, opening her assignment app to make sure nothing’s changed since she left her apartment about an hour ago. She clicks the first Transfer of the day – she has another one in the afternoon, though it’s closer to home – and checks the info.

_James Henry Wilson, male, 53. October 29, 10:32 AM_. _COD: cirrhosis_. She clicks the coordinates to open a map, and it’s still the same spot, just a short walk along the reservoir, by South Gate House. She can see the little blinking dot indicating her position, and in the bottom right hand corner – _Time to destination by foot: 3 minutes._

It’s only 10:15, so she’s not in any hurry, but she doesn’t like cutting it too close when she’s working, so she starts slowly making her way along the path.

The sun has finally broken through the clouds and water drops lingering on the leaves in the canopies overhead, left over from a shower in the early morning, glitter in the light. The morning started out grey and wet, but Clarke has a feeling it’s going to turn into one of those amazing fall days that can only be appreciated to its fullest in the park.

Halfway to her destination, she meets a group of teenage girls, looking to be around fifteen or sixteen – definitely high school age, so they’re probably from one of the nearby private schools, either on a break or, more likely, cutting class. As always, her eyes travel to their foreheads of their own accord, noting their Numbers. Most of them will have long lives, she’s happy to see, but the last girl, trailing a little behind the others, eyes fixed on the phone in her hand as she taps away at the screen… barely three years.

This is the part of her ‘job’ that Clarke hates, the part that she never really gets used to. The only thing she knows about this girl, who definitely can’t be older than sixteen, is that she won’t live to see her twentieth birthday. She doesn’t know how it will happen, doesn’t know if the girl will be able to even say goodbye to her loved ones, if she’ll get to do at least some of the things she dreams of before her time is up. Maybe there’s already something taking root in her body that will slowly drain her of life, or maybe she’ll just be in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting hit by a bus or shot in a drive-by, another innocent victim of the city’s gangs.

Over the years, Clarke has at least managed to suppress the urge to grab strangers in the street and lecture them about appreciating life, about always chasing their dreams and not putting off the things that they really want to do for another day. Because that day might not come.

She can’t help glancing over her shoulder, though, her eyes following the teenager as she catches up to her friends, saying something that makes all of them laugh. She hopes that the girl will still have a good life, despite it being cut much too short.

With a sigh, Clarke shakes her head to clear it so she can focus on the task at hand. There’s no point lingering on the girl, there’s nothing she can do about it. There never is. You can’t change a Number, it’s set the moment you’re born, maybe even before, as far as she knows. That’s just the way it is.

She’s managed to shake off the blues that always grip her in these situations by the time she reaches the open space in front of the Gate House. At first, she thinks she’s alone, but then she realizes that the heap she took for a bundle of blankets on the first bench is actually a man wearing a ragged, too large overcoat and a black, knit beanie, slumped over on the bench.

She pauses at the information board for a moment before continuing past the man and taking a seat on the last bench before the stairs. She tries to study him as inconspicuously as possible, but soon realizes that she doesn’t need to bother – he’s either asleep or, which seems more likely considering the brown paper bag with a bottle that’s dangling precariously from his hand a few inches off the ground, passed out drunk.

If she had met him in the street, she never would have thought he was only 53 years old, he looks at least ten years older. The too-large overcoat looks like he’s gotten it from a shelter, she knows at least one in Brooklyn that hands out this type to the homeless. He’s wearing thin sneakers that have definitely seen better days, she can see several holes from where she’s sitting. She can’t actually see the fading zero on his forehead, the beanie pulled down too low, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that this is her assignment.

She checks her phone again – 10:23. Nine minutes.

Laughter alerts her to a young couple climbing the stairs before they reach her, and she opens a social media app on her phone, so she looks like she’s doing something other than just sitting around waiting. Which is such an odd thing, she still thinks – what’s wrong with just sitting and enjoying a moment of silence with yourself as your only company? But she’s long ago learned to adapt to the customs of the day and age.

She has a reminder from Raven about her Halloween party on Wednesday, and knows that she won’t be able to get out of it this year. She managed to claim she was busy last year, but Raven does not accept a no two years in a row – Clarke knows this from experience. It’s always easier when they’re not in the same city, but since she doesn’t have that excuse to fall back on, she might as well admit defeat.

With a sigh, she clicks the event and then the button to say that she will be attending. At least Raven will be happy.

She keeps scrolling through her feed for a moment longer, liking a couple of posts from friends around the world, before switching to a news app and reading up on the latest news.

Nothing good. There hardly ever is anymore.

By the time she closes down the app, the clock reads 10:30, and she puts the phone away. She might not be as affected by Transfers these days as she was when she first started out, but she still prefers to be prepared. You never know what’s coming, and she doesn’t want to draw attention to herself by dropping her phone.

She knows the moment James Henry Wilson’s heart stops beating and his breathing ceases. The memories invading her mind are instantaneous.

_The cupboard is dark and smells bad. Like dirty socks and old milk. Why would there be dirty socks in the kitchen? She wraps her arms around her knees and pulls them to her chest. Mom’s yelling through the door.  
“Just wait until your father gets home! He’ll teach you not to take things without asking.”  
She was just hungry…_

_The belt hits her back with a sickening sound and she fights to not wince at the sharp pain. He likes it when she does, likes it even more when she cries out. It’s more fun like that. If she’s still and quiet, it’ll be over quicker.  
“Did you finally grow a backbone, boy?”  
Dad’s hot breath hits her in the face. It smells like whisky.  
She hears the belt whining through the air again and then there’s another slash of pain.  
“Maybe next time you’ll keep your mouth shut.”_

_The warm shower feels nice on her aching body, but she can’t stay under the spray for too long. If she uses up too much hot water, Dad’ll see it as another excuse to take his anger out on her.  
She pushes the shower curtain aside and dries off before stepping out of the tub. Wipes the fog away from the bathroom mirror and meets her own eyes. Brown. Mom sometimes sings to her when she’s happy, an old song – “Beautiful, beautiful brown eyes”. That hasn’t happened in a while…  
The bruise around her left eye is starting to turn from purplish to yellow. It’ll be gone soon. She knows how long it takes for a bruise to disappear by now, knows how to brush off the questions they sometimes lead to, how to look just the right amount of embarrassed as she mumbles about tripping going up the stairs or bumping into a door. She’s had seventeen years to learn._

_“Is this seat taken?”  
When she looks up, a girl is standing next to her, waiting expectantly for an answer. A smile showing off straight, white teeth, green eyes, glittering with joy, amber curls framing a beautiful face.  
She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Clears her throat. “No, you can have it.”  
The smile widens. “Thanks.” The girl sits down next to her. “I’m Sarah, I haven’t seen you around before.”_

_Sarah’s eyes are intent on hers, her smile radiant.  
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”  
She tunes out the priest and focuses on Sarah. When she raises her eyebrows, she looks at the priest. “Sorry?”  
He smiles at her. “Do you, James, take this woman, Sarah, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”  
“I do.”  
“And do you, Sarah, take this man, James, to be your lawfully wedded husband.”  
“I do.”_

_“I hope you know you’re never coming anywhere near me again.”  
She just nods, pushing a strand of sweaty hair out of Sarah’s face, trying to ignore the pain in her hand from Sarah’s tight grip when she cries out again.  
The nurse laughs. “Don’t worry, they all say that. The epidural should kick in any moment now, she’ll be a lot happier then.”  
“Nope, I mean it.”_

_“She’s perfect.”  
She wants to say something, agree, but there’s a big lump in her throat that’s preventing any words from coming out.  
“Look at her tiny fingers.”  
She reaches out hesitantly and the baby wraps her entire hand around her pinkie.  
“OK, fine, maybe we can have another one… in a few years.”_

_“Daddy, Daddy, look at me!”  
Rose is trying to do cartwheels on the lawn, her chubby legs only staying in the air for a few seconds.  
“That’s great, Rosie, but Mom said that dinner was ready. Come on.”  
“I’m coming!”_

_The sound of screeching brakes makes her look up from the paper. Then there’s a scream.  
“Rosie! Rosie!”  
She moves like through water, somehow making it to the garden. Sarah’s kneeling in the street, a car diagonally across it, front right wheel on the sidewalk. She can’t see Rosie. If she doesn’t move, if she doesn’t confirm what her mind already knows, maybe it won’t be true._

_The coffin is tiny. There shouldn’t be coffins this small. There’s a single, pink rose on the lid. She had wanted to cover the whole coffin in them, but funerals are expensive. Rosie loved roses, said they were her flowers because she was named after them. She loved pink…  
Sarah’s next to her, a few inches of space between them in the pew, carefully not touching. She wants to reach out, but knows that Sarah will just pull away. So she focuses her eyes on the priest and swallows hard._

_The weight on her shoulder is too heavy. Rosie was so little, hardly weighed anything, she could pick her up with one arm… she loved hanging onto her arm and dangle her feet as she lifted her as high as she could, pretending that she was on some grand adventure in the mountains, hanging precariously off a cliff. How can the coffin be so heavy?_

_“Sarah?”  
No answer. The house is quiet. It always is these days. No laughter, no chattering voices, no music from the radio Sarah always left on so she and Rosie could start dancing in the kitchen whenever one of her favorite songs came on.  
She climbs the stairs slowly, tired. On the fifth step, there’s a squelching sound and she looks down. The carpet is wet. Why is the carpet wet?  
She hurries the rest of the way up. The bathroom door is closed, ted tinted water streaming out under it.  
No. No no no no._

_The neon sign flickers every now and then – LIQUOR, it says, in capital letters. The U has gone out and part of the R, so it looks more like LIQOP, blinking in a vicious red color. Red like blood.  
A bell tingles when she opens the door. It seems wrong, too cheerful for a place like this. A place dreams come to die. The clerk behind the counter looks up but doesn’t say anything, eyes empty.  
“Vodka.”  
Dad hated vodka. At least she’s not completely predictable._

_The first gulp burns her throat. The second goes down easier, and the third barely registers. After half the bottle, the numbness she wants starts setting in. Numbness is better than grief. Better than pain. Better than the images flashing through her mind, a never ending movie of Rosie and Sarah, happy and laughing. Until they’re not. Until they’re gone. Until she’s left behind, all alone._

It ends as quickly as it started, and Clarke finds herself on the park bench again, breath coming in ragged gasps, cheeks wet with tears for someone else’s loss. She can still feel the ghost of the belt against her back, the weight of the tiny coffin on her shoulder, the sharp taste of vodka sliding down her throat…

She tries to catch her breath, using a technique she’s perfected over the years – breathing in through her nose, holding her breath for three seconds, breathing out through her mouth, waiting three seconds. Repeating. She doesn’t need to use it much these days, though. You get used to a lot when you’re exposed to it enough.

Some of her friends say that children are the worst Transfers. And she can see that, definitely. The circumstances of those assignments are always the most painful, a life snuffed out almost before it can begin. But the actual Transfers are usually pretty easy – children haven’t had time to form many memories.

To Clarke, assignments like this one are worse. The ones where someone has been dealt blow after blow through their life, over and over again had their dreams crushed or their loved ones taken from them.

Almost everyone has some bad memories by the time they die. They’ve lost grandparents, parents, siblings, friends, sometimes even children. But the truly heartbreaking ones are the people who have lost hope. Like James obviously had.

There are worse Transfers, of course. Many souls at once is always tough, even if the individual memories are dampened in those situations. They’re tiring, draining, and can take days to recover from. Clarke has done a few of these, they’re as evenly distributed among Soul Keepers as possible, so that nobody has to do more than one every few decades. Most of the time, there’s also more than one Keeper working these assignments, depending a little on the total number of casualties. There is a limit to how many souls one Keeper can handle at a time.

Clarke has also done Transfers for rape victims, people who have been physically or sexually abused as children, prisoners of war who have been tortured, Holocaust survivors, kidnap victims, reliving their most horrible memories with them. But even these people usually have other memories, happy memories that take precedence at the moment of death. They don’t linger on the bad ones, the way James’ subconscious did, almost skimming over the happy ones. It’s usually the other way around, brief glimpses of sad and painful experiences and more time spent on happy times. Maybe that’s why she’s more affected than usual.

Taking one final, deep breath, Clarke gets up, knees a little shaky. James is still slumped over on the bench, the bottle now on the ground below him, spilling its contents onto the ground. She knows it will be some time before anyone picks up on the fact that he’s not just sleeping or passed out in a drunken stupor. Most people keep their distance to drunks and homeless people.

She closes her eyes briefly, touching her closed fist to her chest, right over her heart. “May we meet again,” she mumbles, a prayer of sorts she picked up from Raven in her early days, when her friend had also been her mentor. She doesn’t know where Raven might have gotten it from, but she likes leaving her charges with some sort of parting regards.

As she turns to walk away, she stumbles slightly, legs almost giving out under her, and she pauses for a moment on the stairs, hand gripping the railing.

It’s been a long time since she was this affected by a Transfer. In the beginning, almost every assignment had reduced her to tears, something Raven told her was completely normal, but with experience, things got better. She would never disregard someone’s pain, but everyday bad memories don’t affect her the same way anymore.

She had been planning to stroll around the park for a while, enjoy the fall day, but instead, she takes the path to the 86th Street Transverse, which will bring her to 86th Street Station where she can catch the A train back home to Brooklyn. Maybe a few hours on her couch, with her cat Bastet purring in her lap, some Home Sweet Honeycomb and a feel good show playing on the TV, will make her feel better.

There’s a street vendor on the corner of the park, selling roasted chestnuts and hot cocoa, and since she’s still feeling a little shaky, Clarke buys a cup. She leans against the stone wall for a moment, letting the drink cool down a little before taking her first zip.

The sugar practically explodes in her veins, calming her still racing heart and stilling her shaking hands.

It was just a bad reaction to a Transfer, that’s all. It happens. She’s had a bunch of easy ones lately, people passing from old age with long, mostly happy lives behind them. It’s not that strange that she’s feeling a little rattled from the first tough case in months.

Just as she’s finished her chocolate and decided that she’s going to take a long walk home (OK, so she’ll probably take the train from Times Square, but still), her phone buzzes in her pocket. When she pulls it out, Raven’s face fills the screen.

“Hey, Rae,” she answers.

_“Hey, babe,”_ comes her friend’s voice over the line. _“I saw that you finally caved and responded to my Halloween party. Getting sick of me nagging you all the time?”_

Clarke laughs. “You know me too well.”

_“That’s what being friends for a hundred odd years will do.”_

“True…”

_“You OK?”_

“Yeah…” She sighs. “Just had a bad Transfer. It kicked my butt.”

_“You need me to come over?”_

That’s one of many things she loves about Raven – it doesn’t matter what she’s doing, where she is, if her friends need her, she drops everything to be there for them.

“Nah, I’m at the park. I feel better now, anyway, I was thinking I’d take a walk, it’s a nice day.”

_“You could always stop by on your way, I’ll be home for another… hour and a half or so.”_

In a way, it’s tempting, but… “Honestly, I just want to curl up on the couch before my next one. But thanks for offering.”

The line’s quiet for a moment. _“If you’re sure. Movie night at our place tonight though? Get you out of the post-Transfer funk? Or do you have work late?”_

“No, I should be done by six. But only if I get to pick the movie.”

Raven heaves an exaggerated sigh. _“Fine. But no musicals, I’m still recovering from_ La La Land _.”_

Clarke can’t help but laugh. “I promise, no musicals.”

_“Good. OK, just stop by whenever, we’ll order take out from some hole-in-the-wall place in Chinatown. Love you, babe.”_

“Love you too.”

Clarke ends the call and stuffs her phone back in her pocket, turning left on Central Park West and starting her walk.

There’s more people out and about here on the street than there were in the park, cars honking every now and then, sirens wailing somewhere in the distance, the subway rumbling past underneath her feet. All sounds of the city that are ingrained in her bones by now, the music of her soul. She lets herself get sucked into the mass of people on the sidewalk, becomes one of many faceless people in the crowd, and feels the city’s spirit start to sooth her mind.

The lights at 81st take forever to turn green, and Clarke checks her phone again, which she felt buzz once a moment ago – a text from Raven, just a bunch of hearts and then, for some reason, an octopus. She shakes her head, sending a single heart back, and has just put the phone away again when she feels someone bump into her from behind. There’s nobody in front of her, nothing she can grab onto, and she stumbles forward into the street. There’s a loud honking to her left, and she just has time to think _“well, this is going to hurt”_ before a strong hand closes around her wrist and she’s yanked backwards, onto the sidewalk again.

The yellow cab that almost hit her whizzes past, the driver yelling something through the open window and leaning on the horn. Like she deliberately stepped into oncoming traffic just to piss him off or something. The light finally turns green, and everyone around her cross the street.

That’s New York for you, Clarke supposes. No time to worry about the girl that was just almost run over.

“Are you OK?”

The deep voice reminds her that her savior – sure, getting hit by the car wouldn’t have _killed_ her, like it probably would Norms, but it would have hurt like hell for a couple of days – still has her wrist in a death-like grip.

Clarke turns to respond, looking up into dark brown eyes in a striking face, freckles dotted over a strong nose and distinctive cheekbones and chin. Now, Clarke’s never been struck by lightning, but she’s pretty sure it would feel something like this – electricity buzzing through her veins, making her heart race, palms tingle and shivers run up and down her spine.

She’s heard people talking about instant attraction – she refuses to call it love at first sight, she knows it’s all about pheromones and chemical reactions in the body, love is a concept invented by humans – but she’s never experienced it before herself. Sure, she’s met beautiful people that she’s known within moments that she wants something with, has had a couple of relationships, not to mention flings and one night stands during her long life, but it’s never hit her quite like this before.

“Miss?”

The question pulls her out of her musings and she makes an effort to focus.

“I’m fine, thank you so much,” she says, hoping that she doesn’t sound as out of breath as she feels. If the handsome stranger does call her out on it – which she seriously doubts – she supposes she can just pretend it’s the adrenaline rush of almost getting hit by a car and not the fact that she’s practically salivating over him.

“Are you sure?” he insists, eyebrows furrowing and drawing Clarke’s gaze to the spot that’s usually the first thing she notes when meeting someone new – his Number. But instead, she finds a baseball cap in a violent green color pulled low over his forehead, hiding it from view.

She takes a small step back, to be able to take him in more completely, and realizes that he’s wearing the same shade of green from head to toe, except for black work boots. There’s a logo on the chest of his jacket, which tells her that he’s a delivery driver for a local company. The color isn’t exactly attractive, and maybe the outfit should calm her suddenly raging libido, but it doesn’t.

“Just a little shaken up,” she replies, smiling to put him at ease.

He relaxes a little, releasing her wrist and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t move away from her, though, and despite her own step back a moment ago, they’re really still in each other’s personal spaces. Not that she minds…

“Good.”

His eyes stay locked on hers too, brown meeting blue in a piercing stare that makes Clarke feel almost naked on the bustling city street. Like he can see right through her skin and into her very soul, uncover all her secrets in an instant. Which is ridiculous, of course, but that’s how it feels in the moment.

A car honking nearby makes them both jump and finally break eye contact.

“Well…” Clarke starts, glancing at him again, unable to keep her gaze away. “Thanks again. I should…” She reluctantly nods towards the intersection, the direction she’d been going in, knowing that they can’t just stand here.

“Yeah, I have to get back to work,” he replies with a half-smile. He doesn’t move, though, so maybe he’s as reluctant as her to part.

“Important deliveries?”

He frowns at her question, and she indicates his outfit with a nod. He looks down at his clothes and huffs a laugh.

“Right, I’m not exactly inconspicuous in this get-up.”

“Not exactly, no,” Clarke agrees. “Good luck with the rest of your work day.”

“You too… assuming you’re working or on your way to work or… actually, just have a good day.” Despite the ramblings, he winks at her – actually winks – and his smile turns into more of a smirk, one corner of his mouth lifting a little higher than the other. She can imagine that smile getting him into all kinds of trouble… “And be careful so you don’t get run over. Next time there might not be a knight in… fluorescent green armor to save you.”

She laughs with him, raising a hand in a half-wave goodbye before forcing herself to turn and join the new group of people waiting at the street, just as the light turns green again. She feels his eyes on her back, though, almost like a magnetic pull, and when she looks over her shoulder after crossing the street, he’s still in the same spot. She tears her eyes away reluctantly and forces herself to focus on the path ahead of her, while her mind is still stuck on warm, brown eyes.


	2. A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firs off, thanks to everyone who read the first chapter! And a huge, special thanks to those of you who took the time to leave kudos or bookmark the story, and especially to Nic, CassandraLep, Dayo488, and beautywarrior who left comments - all of you guys make my day!
> 
> Moving on with the story, with a bit more background into Clarke's life as well as some new players! A big thanks to my beta Liz, for all her help :) And I obviously don't own anything relating to The 100.
> 
> Chapter title from “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes” from the movie “Cinderella” because, well, Princess…

Clarke shifts her hold on the bag full of snacks before reaching out to knock on the door in front of her.

For a moment, there’s no response, then barking starts up inside the apartment, followed by footsteps and, finally, the click of the lock opening.

“Hey, Griffin,” Zeke greets her, moving aside to let her into the hallway.

“I come bearing gifts,” she replies, handing him the bag before closing the door behind her and unbuttoning her coat.

Lola’s jumping up and down excitedly a few feet in front of her – the little French bulldog knows she’s not allowed to jump _at_ people, but that doesn’t stop her from imitating a rubber ball, bouncing up and down whenever she meets someone.

“Thanks, I’ll take this into the kitchen,” Zeke says. “Rae’s in the living room, you know where it is.”

Clarke hums her agreement as she hangs her coat up and toes her boots off. “Come on, Lola, let’s go see what Mommy’s up to.”

The dog barks once, excitedly, and then takes off in the direction of the living room. A slight commotion tells Clarke that she probably runs head-first into the coffee table, as usual, before scrambling onto the couch.

“God, you’re annoying,” Raven’s voice meets Clarke as she enters the large, open space with amazing views of Jersey City to the right and Ellis and Liberty Island straight ahead. She doesn’t want to think about what Raven and Zeke must have cashed out for this place when they moved in almost two years ago, even if she knows they can obviously afford it – the benefit of being able to save money for decades is that it has a tendency to accumulate. And Raven’s always been a whiz at picking out up and coming companies to invest in, something that’s benefited both Raven herself, Clarke and their friends over the years.

“Gee, nice to know I’m welcome,” Clarke teases, slumping down on the huge, U-shaped couch next to her oldest friend.

“I was talking about the dog, babe, like you don’t know that.” Raven leans over and smacks a wet kiss on Clarke’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Clarke steals the remote from Raven’s hand and opens Netflix. “I’m good. You?”

She flips through the new movies, trying to find something all three of them might actually enjoy.

“I’m fine…” Raven replies a little tentatively. “So you’re not still agonizing over that Transfer? I know you can sometimes get a little obsessed.”

“The Transfer…” It takes a moment before Clarke realizes what Raven’s talking about. Right. The Transfer. The one she was recovering from when Raven called earlier. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. It was a little rough at the time, heavier stuff than I’ve had in a while and the memories got to me, but it passed pretty quickly.”

“Right…”

Clarke focuses intently on the screen, reading the plot of some new action movie without really taking in the words, to avoid meeting Raven’s eyes. The truth is, the Transfer this morning hasn’t crossed her mind since her close encounter with a car and subsequent rescue. Her mind’s been returning to brown eyes, freckles and a teasing smirk all afternoon, if she’s being honest. Which she’s not particularly keen on being with Raven at the moment.

“What do you think of this one?” she asks, nodding at the screen, in an attempt to distract Raven.

Not that she expects it to work.

“Fine. But getting back to the fact that you’re avoiding something…”

Clarke sighs and forces herself to turn from the TV to face her friend. “I’m not, though. I’m sorry if I worried you, it was just a rough Transfer but I’m fine now. There’s no need to talk about it.”

Raven watches her intently for a moment before her eyes light up as if she’s figured something out. Clarke’s seen it before, usually when her friend is tinkering with something mechanical that Clarke would be afraid to touch and finally solves whatever problem it was she took the thing apart to fix. She calls it the lightbulb moment. “There’s a guy!”

“Raven…” Clarke sighs.

“Girl?”

Clarke knows that the battle is lost so she decides to surrender with at least some grace intact.

“Fine. There’s sort of a guy, but just barely. I was on my way home from the park earlier and someone bumped into me and pushed me into the street, right in front of a cab…”

“Shit, are you OK?”

Clarke nods and squeezes Raven’s knee reassuringly.

“I’m fine. Someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, out of the way. This guy, a delivery driver… I don’t even know, it was just this… moment. You know?”

Raven wags her eyebrows suggestively. “Nice. So did you get his number?”

“I didn’t even get his _name_ ,” Clarke replies. She’s been jumping back and forth from cursing herself for that oversight – if nothing else, he could have been good for one night or even a couple of weeks of amazing sex (she just has a feeling that he knows what he’s doing in that department) – and being relieved that she at least doesn’t have to resist the urge to reach out to him, since she can’t. Because there’s a nagging voice at the back of her mind that keeps insisting there’s no way she would be able to let him go if she did get him into bed, or into her life in general… “It was just one of those chance meetings, I guess. Ships passing in the night or on a busy New York street in the middle of the day or whatever.”

Raven’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “You’re really hung up on this guy, though. Like, in a way I haven’t seen you before. And you met him for all of, what, five minutes?”

“I’ll get over it,” Clarke says with a shrug. “It was just instant attraction or something.”

“Love at first sight.”

She rolls her eyes. “There’s no such thing and you know it.”

“God, you’re so un-romantic,” her friend complains. Considering her analytical nature, Raven really is surprisingly romantic. “This could be fate, you know. One of the great loves of your life. And you’re not even going to try to find him?”

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t be some epic love story,” Clarke replies. “You know I don’t get involved with Norms for more than something brief. There’s no happily ever after in this scenario.”

“He’s a Norm? Number?”

“Didn’t see it, he had a baseball cap on.”

“So he could be a Keeper, right?” Raven notes.

Clarke shakes her head. “He would have seen that I was, though.”

She doesn’t know all Soul Keepers in the world, of course, there are tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of them, she’s not really sure. But she does know all who are stationed in and around New York at the moment, at least well enough to recognize them. They have quarterly get-togethers in a community center in Brooklyn. He could be new, she supposes, but even so, there’s an unspoken rule that you acknowledge another Keeper when you meet them, even if it’s just in passing on the street. If he was one of them, he would have said something when he realized that she was too.

“So what?” Raven insists. “It’s been ages since you had more than a quick fling, and there’s obviously _something_ there, even I can see that. Why not make an exception?”

It’s not like she’s wrong.

Clarke has had a total of two long term relationships in the past century and a half – three if she’s using the term lightly – which she can admit isn’t much. Neither of them were easy, for different reasons.

She met Lexa the second time she was stationed in New York, in 1913, and they were a couple for twenty-five years until Lexa suddenly decided to go to Australia, even going so far as to request an early reassignment, without discussing it with Clarke.

New York had been progressive even back then, but two women were still not accepted as a couple in most circles, and they had been forced to keep their relationship behind closed doors. After they left New York, it had gotten worse, the people in the smaller cities they were stationed in suspicious of two young, single women living together, and rumors started up before long whenever they moved. Neither of them cared what people thought, really, but it still wore on them both, and affected their relationship as well.

Now that she has some distance to both Lexa and her own feelings for the woman, and can look at the situation with neutral eyes, Clarke can admit that they had been drifting apart for months, maybe years, before Lexa’s sudden departure. They’ve crossed paths a few times since – she knows Lexa has long since settled down with a woman she met in Europe in the sixties, Costia – and they can even carry civil conversations when they need to, but Clarke knows that they will never be friends, even if they at some point find themselves in the same city for an extended period of time. There’s just too much baggage there.

Her next long term partner had been Wells. They first met way back in 1885, through Raven, but didn’t begin their romantic relationship until the mid-fifties, when they found themselves stationed in London at the same time, both in the country for the first time and not really knowing anyone else in the area. They were accepted by most of their British acquaintances, but when they returned to the US and Houston seven years later, they quickly learned that an interracial relationship was frowned upon at best in that part of the world. After Wells was attacked by some men in their neighborhood on his way home after dark a few weeks after their move, they realized that they couldn’t stay there and were quickly relocated to New York. The tolerance was much higher here, but they still caught looks when they kissed or touched each other in the street.

Their relationship ended amicably in the early seventies, when they realized that they had just developed into different people who didn’t fit together romantically anymore, and they’re still very close friends, keeping in touch regularly and spending time together as often as they can when they’re in the same area. Wells has been in Europe for a couple of years now, though, so they’ve mostly been skyping lately.

She’s had a couple of shorter relationships since, all with other Keepers – Niylah’s the one who lasted the longest, and even that was just two years and never really got serious.

But Clarke has always been very insistent on not starting anything long term with someone who isn’t a Soul Keeper. She’s had one night stands and even short flings, but never more than a few weeks, a month, tops. She’s never let herself fall in love with a Norm, because she doesn’t want to put herself through the heartbreak that a relationship like that would inevitably lead to, one way or another.

Raven, on the other hand, had a couple of longer relationships with Norms before she met Zeke in the late eighties. Being with a Norm has its problems, which is the main reason Clarke has always avoided it, but there’s no rule against telling them about Soul Keepers, and somehow, Raven’s managed it. She and Finn were together when Clarke became a Soul Keeper and their relationship lasted for over forty years, until he died a few weeks before his seventieth birthday. Clarke saw first-hand what that did to her best friend, and had actually been extremely surprised when Raven introduced her to Wick, another Norm, in the forties. They were together for around twenty years before he eventually ended the relationship, having a hard time with people thinking Raven was his daughter when he turned fifty and she still looked twenty-five.

“I just… it’s not a good idea,” Clarke says, snapping back to the present. “And it’s not like I could find him even if I wanted to. This is New York, it would literally be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Raven’s eyes narrow in a way Clarke knows means trouble.

“You said he was a delivery guy? Which company?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No, Raven. Please, just let it go.”

“Let what go?” Zeke asks as he enters the room, carrying a tray with a few bowls filled with the snacks Clarke brought and two glasses which Clarke suspects – and hopes – contain his delicious fruity cocktail.

“She met a guy,” Raven replies, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“For, like, two minutes. And he’s a Norm, you know I don’t do Norms.”

Zeke sighs. “Just leave her alone, Rae. If she doesn’t want to go for this guy, you can’t make her.”

“Fine.” Raven huffs as if it’s a huge sacrifice for her personally. “Don’t come crying to me the next time you’re lonely and horny.”

“No, the next time I’m lonely and horny, I’ll go to a bar and pick someone up who can help me take care of that,” Clarke shoots back before sticking her tongue out at Raven, who throws a potato chip at her in return.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re an independent woman who don’t need no man or whatever.”

But thankfully, Raven lets the subject go as they settle in for the movie, and after a while, Clarke finds herself relaxing.

-100-

She ends up staying a little later than she had intended, Raven putting on another movie when the first one ends, but she doesn’t have a Transfer until early afternoon tomorrow, so it’s not like she has to get up at the crack of dawn or anything. And she knows she needs to unwind now and then, get out of her head and just be. Raven’s always been the best way for her to do that.

When the end credits of the second movie start rolling across the screen and Zeke’s low snoring fills the room, though, she stretches and gets up.

“I should head home,” she says.

Raven yawns and pushes herself off the couch as well. “Sure you don’t want to spend the night? Guest room’s all set up as always.”

“Nah, you know I prefer waking up in my own bed. Besides, Bas will kill me if there’s no food in her bowl in the morning.”

At the mention of the cat, Lola growls low in her throat and Raven laughs. “Stupid dog. OK, let me at least walk you to the train, she needs to go out anyway if I want to sleep later than five tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

They stroll along Battery Place at a leisurely pace, Lola sniffing every single street lamp and post before deeming one of them acceptable for doing her business against.

“So, about the Halloween party,” Raven says after a couple of quiet minutes. “First off – there will be absolutely no backing out, I will personally drag you here if I have to, and you know I mean it.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “No need, I’ll be there. Who else is coming?”

Raven’s parties have a tendency to turn huge and slightly out of control, and Clarke prefers smaller gatherings where she only has to interact with her friends, people she already knows, and maybe one or two new faces. Big crowds full of strangers she’s never met before have always made her a little uncomfortable, despite Raven dragging her into them regularly through the years.

“There will be people you know, don’t worry,” Raven assures her, probably realizing what she’s thinking about. “The usual suspects will be attending, of course, plus some people I’ve invited from the museum and Zeke’s friends from work.”

Raven works as a volunteer at NYSCI, the science museum in Flushing, which is perfect for her scientific mind, and Zeke helps out at a charity that runs community centers throughout the city, offering disadvantaged kids a place to hang out after school to keep them out of gangs and off the streets.

“So what you’re really saying is that this will turn into one of your regular monster bashes?” Clarke summarizes.

Raven shrugs. “Possibly. With emphasis on the monster part. Do you have a costume?”

“Shit, no,” Clarke realizes. “And it’s probably too late now to get anything better than slutty nurse or something.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Raven says. “I happen to have a spare costume.”

Clarke narrows her eyes suspiciously at her friend. “What type of costume, exactly?”

“You’ll just have to show up a little early to find out. I promise it’s better than slutty nurse, though.”

“Fine.” She figures she can just bring a black dress and some red, liquid lipstick and claim she’s a vampire if Raven’s costume is too much. Vampires are still cool, right? She’s almost positive they are.

They reach Bowling Green and pause at the entrance to the subway.

“Take a cab from Borough Hall?” Raven asks.

“You know Brooklyn is perfectly safe,” Clarke argues, rolling her eyes. Sure, the area has had its up and downs since she bought the top floor of an old building with views over Manhattan before the end of the Second World War and turned it into an apartment, but Clarke loves the neighborhood, which is the reason she’s kept the place, even if she’s only lived there for about fourteen years in total. “And I have my pepper spray, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, babe. OK, at least text me when you get home, so I know you’re not lying bloody and beaten in a ditch somewhere?”

“Kind of hard to find a ditch along my route,” Clarke teases. “But I will, promise.”

“OK, night.” Raven gives her a one-armed hug, her other hand holding the leash and preventing Lola from taking off into the street – the little dog seems to have picked up an interesting scent and is whining and straining to follow it. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The train’s only half-full, it being after midnight on a Monday, and just as she knew, her walk from the station is uneventful. She pauses in front of her building for a moment, admiring the lit bridges on either side.

When she finally unlocks the door to her apartment, nudging Bastet inside with a foot to keep her from dashing out into the hallway, she lets out a long sigh. She always loves coming home, no matter if it’s after a few hours at Raven’s like now, or after twenty years of being stationed somewhere else. This is home, the one place that’s been a constant in her life for over sixty years, no matter how many other places she’s lived.

She sends a quick text to Raven – **Home now, loser** – getting a poop emoji in return, and grabs some ice cream from the freezer before making herself comfortable on the couch, cat stretched out along her left thigh and purring up a storm, to watch the lights in Manhattan twinkle across the water. Yeah, this is why she loves this place.

-100-

Despite her promise to Raven to be at the Halloween party, Clarke almost backs out when she gets into the elevator on Wednesday night.

She’s just not a party girl, she never really has been. Sure, she’s had her share of fun at The Viper Room, CBGB and Studio 54 through the years – usually dragged along by Raven, but still. She danced all night at Woodstock and saw The Beatles in Liverpool back in 1960, when they were still called The Silver Beetles. She can have fun.

Right now she’d just rather take the train back home and spend the night on the couch with Bas, watching reruns of _So you think you can dance_ and eating her weight in popcorn. She’s allowed to want that.

But she knows Raven, and knows full well that if she doesn’t show up in the next half hour, she will first get a bunch of annoyed text messages, then a call and finally a personal visit during which she will be wheedled and convinced and, if all else fails, physically dragged to Raven’s apartment.

Really, it would be such a hassle, and she’d end up at the party anyway. Might as well go voluntarily and save herself the trouble.

So, instead of riding the elevator back down and heading home, like she really wants to, Clarke takes a deep breath and gets off on Raven’s floor.

As usual, her friend has gone all out and even decorated the hallway – there are fake cobwebs here and there with dangling plastic spiders, silhouettes of bats taped to the walls and spooky laughter coming from _somewhere_.

The door opens almost before she can knock, a huge smile spreading on Raven’s face.

“You came!”

“You did threaten me with bodily harm if I didn’t, so here I am…”

“That’s the spirit. Come on.”

Clarke barely has time to kick off her boots and call a hello to Zeke, who she spots in the kitchen, before Raven grabs her by the arm and pulls her along down the corridor leading to the three bedrooms.

“Take your clothes off,” Raven orders before going into the huge walk-in closet in the master bedroom.

“You know, Rae, I’m flattered, but not with your boyfriend in the other room,” Clarke shoots back, but obediently starts unbuttoning her shirt.

“Yeah, yeah, you wish.” There’s some rustling and then Raven’s voice again. “Are you done?”

Clarke looks down at her underwear, which is all she has left on. “Depends on how naked you want me.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. OK, close your eyes.”

“Seriously?” Clarke sighs, but does as she’s told again. She’s learned long ago that the fastest way to get out of a situation with Raven is to just play along. “Fine, they’re closed, let’s get this over with.”

There’s some more rustling, the sound of the closet door closing and then something is placed on Clarke’s head.

“Ta-da!”

She takes that to mean she can open her eyes again, so she does.

“Really, Raven?”

Her friend is holding up something that is most easily described as a replica of Cinderella’s ball gown – the entire dress is a beautiful powder blue, the bodice covered in thousands of tiny, glittering stones, even on the narrow shoulder straps, and the skirt layers and layers of tulle, at least four feet in diameter. Before she even reaches up to touch what Raven placed on her head a moment ago, Clarke knows it must be a crown of some kind and, sure enough, it’s a silver tiara with stones matching the ones on the dress.

“What’s wrong with it?” Raven asks innocently, looking between Clarke and the dress.

“It’s huge, for one!” Clarke complains. “I won’t be able to move.”

“It’s actually a lot lighter than it looks,” her friend insists. “At least try it on?”

Clarke sighs but holds out her hands for the dress. She knows from experience that the best way to get Raven to let something go is to show her it’s not actually a good idea. Not that she’s been able to do that more than a few times during their long friendship, but she’s absolutely positive this will be one of those times – she’ll look ridiculous in the dress.

Thanks to the shoulder straps, she can keep her bra on, which she supposes is something. She pulls the zipper down and steps into the dress before lifting it up and maneuvering her arms through the straps.

“Zip me up,” she says, turning her back to Raven and pulling her hair over one shoulder.

“See?” Raven says when she’s pulled the zipper up. “You look amazing.”

Clarke reluctantly turns to the full body mirror next to the closet door to take in her reflection.

It’s… mesmerizing, really. Raven’s right, she _does_ look amazing, the dress hugging her in all the right places and accentuating her natural curves. But still…

“This is not a Halloween costume, Rae, it’s a dress for a… a debutante ball in the deep South or something,” she argues. “A masquerade at a castle in a faraway land.”

“Come on, Halloween’s a night for being someone you’re not… haven’t you ever wanted to be a princess?”

She actually dated a prince once, for all of five minutes – it was the summer after Grace Kelly married the prince of Monaco and somehow – she can’t really remember, but she has a strong suspicion Raven was involved – Clarke had found herself on a huge yacht somewhere off the French Riviera. She’s pretty sure the prince had thought she was some famous Hollywood star. The fling had fizzled out quickly when he found out that she wasn’t, and she, in turn, realized that he was nothing more than a spoiled brat who was making the most of being the second son of a king with not many responsibilities but a lot of money, free time and pretty girls falling over themselves to be the next conquest on his arm and in his bed.

“I don’t know… what’s the other costume? You said you had two, right?”

Raven disappears into the closet again, emerging a moment later with something black and shiny.

“Catwoman.”

Clarke shudders. “I am _not_ wearing that.”

“Those are your options, babe.”

“Actually…” Clarke rummages around in the big purse she brought, grabbing the dress and red lip gloss. She even found a pair of fake teeth in a bathroom drawer, not that she can remember when she used them. Probably at another of Raven’s Halloween bashes.

“No,” Raven says before she can even explain. “Princess or Catwoman, take your pick.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, a silent stand-off that Clarke knows she won’t win. And, just like she knew, she’s the first to cave.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Raven crows, throwing a hand in the air. “I’ll fix your hair and make-up, trust me, you’ll look like a million bucks when I’m done with you.”

And, Clarke has to grudgingly admit when she’s finally allowed to look in the mirror again 45 minutes later, she does. Raven’s curled her hair, so it’s hanging in ringlets halfway down her back, nicely accentuated by the silvery, sparkling tiara, and done a natural but striking make-up with smoky eyes. She also adds sparkling earrings and a matching necklace that pulls attention to Clarke’s cleavage – not that it really needs any help, her boobs are definitely more on display in this dress than she’s used to.

“Damn, Griffin, you clean up nice,” Zeke compliments her when she comes into the living room where he’s getting the bar in one corner set up.

“You say that like it’s the first time you’ve seen me out of sweats or something,” she replies, gratefully accepting the shot glass he hands her and downing it in one go. Tequila. Not her first choice, but it’ll get the job done. “Keep ‘em coming.”

He laughs but fills her glass again and she knocks the second one back too.

Soon enough, people start arriving – first through the door is a group of Soul Keepers that Clarke’s close to, which she’s grateful for, since it means she can hang out with Harper and Maya instead of being dragged around by Raven and introduced to everyone she doesn’t know.

She switches from shots to regular cocktails after her third tequila – she wants to be pleasantly buzzed, so she’ll forget that she doesn’t really want to be here and can have fun, but not so drunk she won’t remember what happened when she wakes up tomorrow. It’s a fine line but she’s mastered it over the years. It probably helps that her tolerance is much higher than Norms, so it takes a lot to actually get her really drunk.

Harper’s boyfriend, Monty, and Maya’s boyfriend, Jasper, initiate a game of beer pong in the kitchen an hour or so into the party, and since Clarke and Raven are the reigning beer pong champions in their little group, they of course have to defend their title. Murphy happily takes on the role of trash talking both teams, but nobody pays him much mind since they’re used to him by now.

She’s in the middle of a great run – she hasn’t missed a single shot yet and has only had to drink twice, despite being more than a little tipsy by now – when a familiar voice makes her miss the entire table.

“Well, well, Princess. Fancy meeting you here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say sorry for the cliff hanger, but I'm really not ;) Also, just a quick note on Clarke's past relationships - I decided to skip the Clarke/Raven/Finn love triangle in this fic because it just didn't work with the story, hope nobody's too disappointed by that!


	3. The Stars in Your Dark Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up where we left off – Raven’s Halloween party and finally (?) some Bellarke interaction… I hope you guys like the story so far, big thanks to beautywarrior who left a wonderful comment, and also to everyone else who read, bookmarked or left kudos!
> 
> As always, I don’t own anything relating to The 100. And a shout out to my beta Liz :)
> 
> Chapter title from “City Lights” by Blanche

For a second or two after she lets the ping pong ball fly, Clarke is frozen.

Which Raven, of course, notices immediately. She raises her eyebrows in a silent question, but Clarke just shakes her head discretely before turning around. Her head spins slightly as she does, which she blames on the alcohol – it’s definitely not her heart racing.

And there he is, minus the fluorescent green this time, instead wearing a… football uniform?

“And what are you supposed to be?” she asks when she’s gotten her voice working again. “Unfulfilled college dreams?”

He looks down at himself before shrugging. “Kind of last minute, I didn’t have a costume so I had to make do with what was available.”

“Which was, what? Your old American football uniform from school?” she continues amusedly. “Reliving your glory days?”

She seriously does not know where the snarky comments are coming from, but he shoots her a smirk in return, so she doesn’t think she’s offended him, at least.

“Actually, my roommate’s boyfriend’s, but close enough.”

“Hi there,” Raven cuts in with one of her razor sharp smiles, unashamed as always. “Welcome to the party. And you are?”

He looks a little confused for a moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly – which makes Clarke realize that she _still_ can’t see his Number, this time because he’s wearing a helmet, minus the grill. Damn it.

“Sorry, I’m Bellamy Blake,” he says after a moment, holding out his hand to Raven. “Miller’s roommate, I’m pretty sure he told Zeke I was coming.”

“Of course, sorry, yeah, Zeke said a friend of Miller’s might be stopping by.” She looks between him – Bellamy, Clarke tries out the name in her mind and finds that she likes it, a lot – and Clarke, eyebrows again shooting up. “So… this is your delivery guy?”

There have been many times in Clarke’s life when she’s wanted to sink through the ground – funnily enough, most of them with, and usually because of, Raven – and this is definitely one of them. She can feel the blush creeping up her neck and tries to tamp down on it before she turns into a tomato, knowing full well that it’s a lost cause.

“Delivery guy?” Bellamy repeats amusedly. “Glad to know _that’s_ the part you took away from our encounter, Princess.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow at him. “Like ‘Princess’ is any better?”

He gives her a long once over, eyes trailing slowly from hers down her entire body and back up, definitely lingering a little too long in certain places. If she hadn’t already been blushing, she sure would be by the time his eyes finally reach hers again.

“Well, if the glass slipper fits…”

Right, she’s wearing Raven’s ridiculous ball gown, she had actually almost managed to forget that.

“You caught me, I’m really a princess in exile. My gown was just at the drycleaner the other day.”

He lets out a surprised laugh at that, and Clarke can feel the corners of her mouth curl up in response.

“Right…” Raven drawls next to Clarke, reminding her that they’re not alone but actually still in Raven and Zeke’s kitchen, surrounded by people. “If you’re out, I’m going to have to call in reinforcements.” She scans the room, spotting Zeke just entering with some empty bottles. “Babe, come help me beat these losers. Clarke’s too distracted by Miller’s roommate to be of any use to me.”

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, making a mental note to strangle Raven as soon as there aren’t any witnesses around. When she opens them again, Bellamy is watching her intently, a half-smile on his face.

“Guess I’ve been kicked off the team,” she says lightly.

“Sorry if I… distracted you,” he replies, obviously amused by the whole situation.

“She’s exaggerating,” Clarke tries, and he chuckles.

“So you didn’t miss not just the cups but the whole table a minute ago?”

Of course he saw that.

“Don’t worry,” he continues before she can say anything. “I almost walked into a pole the other day because I couldn’t take my eyes off you even when you were three blocks away.”

The admission makes her stomach swoop in a way she hasn’t experienced in much too long.

“Really?”

He shrugs, as if it’s nothing.

“Let’s just say you made a… an impression. Now, normally at this stage, I would offer to get you a drink, but seeing as I just got here and you seem to be a bit more at home than I am…”

“Right. Follow me.”

She moves past him, brushing against him in a not-at-all deliberate way as she does, his arm firm and warm against her. Before she reaches the kitchen door, she feels his hand wrap around her wrist and his mouth close to her ear.

“Don’t want to lose you in the crowd,” he says, voice low, making a shiver run down her spine. She turns her head, putting them only inches apart.

“We wouldn’t want that.”

His fingers slide down to interlace with hers instead, his lips parting slightly, but she quickly turns back around and tugs him along out into the hallway and onwards to the living room, which is much more crowded than the kitchen was. Jasper, the eternal bartender at these things, has set up shop behind the bar, and when they reach it, Clarke leans against the counter. She’d try to climb one of the barstools, but she’s pretty sure it’s not physically possible in this dress.

“What will it be, your highness?” Jasper asks with an exaggerated bow.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Something fruity that doesn’t contain your moonshine. And you know I’ll know if it does.” She turns to Bellamy. “What would you like? Zeke’s a beer snob so there’s like, fifteen types of beer, plus basically every type of liquor you can imagine. Take your pick. Though I would recommend staying away from the moonshine, too much of that stuff could probably make you blind.”

He considers her question for a moment. “Whiskey, neat,” he then tells Jasper, who salutes him before turning to the bottles on the shelves against the wall.

Clarke turns so she’s leaning her elbow against the bar and Bellamy mirrors her position a few feet away, glancing down at her poufy skirt that fills the entire space between them and brushes against his legs. He says something, but the music and general sound volume in the room is too loud so she can’t hear.

“Sorry?” she says, leaning in closer.

“I said, I’m glad I ran into you again,” he repeats, his warm breath hitting her neck. “I’ve been kicking myself for not getting your number the other day.”

His words make the butterflies that have taken up residence in her stomach flap their wings wildly. “Oh, yeah?”

He nods slowly, eyes intent on hers, and Clarke again forgets that they’re surrounded by people. When he leans forward another inch, she does too, and…

“There we go.”

Jasper’s voice makes Clarke jump back and quickly tear her eyes away. Damn, if he can do that to her with just a few words and a look… she is so screwed. And not in a good way. Well, possibly in a good way too, but still.

To have something to do with her hands, she grabs the tall glass with something red and fizzy in it that Jasper just put down on the bar and takes a long drink. It might be free of Jasper’s infamous moonshine, but there’s still a lot of alcohol in it, which adds to the buzz she’s been building for the last hour or so. Bellamy seems to have the same idea, because he lifts the tumbler of whiskey to his lips and downs the amber liquid in one go.

“Damn, that’s good whiskey,” he notes when he’s put the glass down. “Zeke’s not just a beer snob, I guess.”

Clarke puts her own, still half-full, glass down as well. “Actually, whiskey’s Raven’s domain,” she says, squinting at the bottle Jasper’s put down behind the bar. “I think that one’s… yup, Glenmorangie, ‘The quarter century’.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“I’m not an expert – I prefer mixed drinks, you don’t need twenty-five-year-old whisky for that – but five, maybe six hundred,” Clarke says with a shrug, and Bellamy gulps.

“A bottle?”

“Does that make it taste better or worse?”

He considers her question for a moment. “I honestly don’t know. I might need another one, just to check.”

Clarke laughs and waves Jasper back over. “Refill, please, barkeep.”

He dutifully pours a good amount of whiskey in the glass before once again returning to Maya at the end of the counter.

Bellamy takes a small zip. “That’ll last me for a while. Is there somewhere a little less… rowdy around here?”

She shouldn’t. She really, _really_ shouldn’t. She’s pretty much certain that he’s a Norm and she just knows that she could fall so easily…

“Come on.”

There’s a large balcony off the living room, but it’s already full of people smoking and laughing, so she leads him out of the room, in the opposite direction of the kitchen. His hand finds hers, interlacing their fingers again, and she feels a burst of electricity rush up her arm at his warm touch.

Halfway down the hallway, she reluctantly pulls her hand out of his grasp so she can open the linen closet and grab two blankets.

“Trust me,” she says at his confused expression, handing him one of the blankets.

He just nods and follows her further down the hallway, to the non-descript door at the end that hides stairs leading up to a private roof terrace.

“Wow,” he mumbles when they step out into the open air, turning in a circle to take in their surroundings.

“Pretty cool, huh?” she says, sitting down on one of the lounge chairs that occupy the space and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She takes another zip of her drink before putting the glass down on the ground next to her lounger.

“Amazing,” he agrees, taking a seat on the other chair and putting the blanket to the side before turning to her. “You’re not worried you’ll ruin your pretty dress, though?”

Clarke shrugs. “Don’t care. Raven basically forced me to wear it, so it would serve her right if it did get ruined.”

Bellamy laughs at that, a deep, rumbling sound that seems to reverberate in her bones.

“So…” she starts when his laughter trails off. They’re in downtown Manhattan, so it’s never quiet, but the sound of the party downstairs is limited to some noise floating up from the balcony and the traffic rumble is about as distant as it ever gets here. “Delivery driver by day, football player by night… what else is there to Bellamy Blake?”

He laughs a little. “I’ve never actually played football, to be honest,” he replies. “I was a huge nerd in high school.”

Clarke tilts her head a little, giving him an evaluating once over. “I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Seriously,” he insists. “I had braces until, like, tenth grade and these totally out of style glasses… and I loved history and mythology, that’s really all it takes to get placed in the nerd category at any high school. I’m actually getting my Bachelor in history at the moment.”

“Really?”

“I know,” he says with a grimace. “I’m too old to still be in college.”

“That’s not what I was thinking at all,” Clarke replies. “I just didn’t really peg you as a history buff.”

“You mean based on the, what, twenty minutes total we’ve spent together?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Touché,” she replies with a laugh. “So how come you’re going to school now?”

He’s quiet for a moment, taking a sip of his whiskey. “My mom died a few months before I was supposed to start college,” he finally says. “I had a scholarship, full ride, so I could have still gone, but my little sister was just thirteen… I couldn’t let her get sucked into the foster system, so I put off school. A family friend got me the job at the delivery company and I’ve been there ever since. I guess I got used to earning money, it took a while before I even thought about school again, even when it was a possibility, but I’ve been taking night classes for… five years now. It’s slow going, since I work full time, too, but hopefully I’ll have my Bachelor in the spring.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke offers. “That can’t have been easy for you, having to step up and take care of your sister right after losing your mom like that. How is she now? She must be… five years younger than you?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “She’s twenty-five, doing well.”

She thinks he might continue, but he doesn’t, instead looking away from her and out over the city. Clarke might not be the best at reading people – Raven’s much better at it, interpreting little nuances in someone’s expression that Clarke doesn’t even spot – but she’s fairly sure there’s more to the story. It’s also obvious that Bellamy doesn’t want to talk about it.

“So, history,” she changes the subject, and she can see the relief on his face for a brief moment when he meets her eyes again. “I have to admit, I was never good at names and dates. How did it peak your interest?”

He shifts on the lounge chair, turning fully towards her and leaning his elbows on his knees, his entire posture giving away how excited he is about the subject.

“It’s been a big part of my life since I was little,” he explains. “My dad died when I was just a baby, and my mom struggled a lot, financially, but she always made sure to read to me whenever she could. We barely had any books, so she made do with what we did have – my favorite was a huge book of Greek myths that used to be my dad’s. By the time I was, I don’t know, four, I demanded she read me stories from it every single night, it didn’t matter that I’d already heard them probably a hundred times. I taught myself to read with that book, when my mom didn’t have time to read out loud. And then when Octavia – that’s my sister – was little, I started reading to her. It became a… an escape, I guess. From our crappy, one bedroom apartment with drug dealers down the hall and only one working radiator.”

His voice goes from wistful, when he mentions his sister, to hard by the time he stops talking, and Clarke can’t help but reach out and squeeze his hand.

He glances down at their joined hands for a moment before clearing his throat.

“OK, enough about me. Tell me about you.”

Oh, no.

It’s not like Clarke doesn’t have a background story she uses for situations like these, she just… she doesn’t want to lie to him.

Which is not an option, of course.

“What do you want to know?” she asks, putting it off just a little.

He turns his hand under hers and runs a finger from the heel of her hand, across the palm and up her middle finger, sending sparks of electricity through her arm.

“We can start with your name. Do you even have a last name? All I’ve got is Clarke, and even that was from Raven, not you.”

He’s right, she realizes.

“Well, let’s rectify that, shall we,” she says, taking his hand in a handshake. “Clarke Griffin, lovely to meet you.”

He gives her a half-smirk. “Bellamy Blake. The pleasure is all mine.”

He holds onto her hand for a moment longer than necessary, and Clarke’s overwhelmed by an urge to pull him down on top of her on the lounger, get a taste of his lips against hers, feel his skin on hers.

Instead, she pulls her hand away and tucks both hands into the blanket, to avoid the temptation.

A flash of disappointment, if she’s not completely mistaken, crosses Bellamy’s face before he smiles again.

“And who is Clarke Griffin?”

She hesitates for a moment, which she thinks is perfectly normal in the situation. “That’s a good question,” she finally says. “I guess… I’m an artist.”

That much is the truth, if not the whole truth.

“Really? What do you do?”

“Paint,” she reveals. “Not professionally or anything, I mean, I sell some stuff on Etsy, but it’s more of a hobby, really. What I do when I need to unwind.”

He considers her for a moment. “But it’s the way you identify yourself. I asked who you were and that’s what you said. Not what you do for a living or something else.”

It’s true. The artistic side of herself has been one of few constants in her life, something she could always take with her, wherever she went. Drawing, painting, she’s even tried sculpting and pottery a time or two. It’s always been her way to escape from the world, to just be, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she says. “As for what I do for a living, I work at a library.”

It’s not a complete lie – she volunteers at a library in Brooklyn, reading for younger children and helping older kids with their homework a couple of times a week. It’s just not a real, paid _job_.

“Really? That was my dream job when I was, like, ten.”

She has to hold back a laugh at that, not wanting to insult him. “Seriously? Ten-year-old Bellamy wanted to be a librarian? Not a firefighter or an astronaut, but a librarian?”

“Absolutely! That’s where all the books lived.”

She lets the laugh out now, and he joins her, the sound floating up towards the stars that are barely visible above them. Clarke lets out a sigh and twists in the lounger, stretching out so she can gaze at the night sky.

“I love this place,” she says after a moment, just loud enough for the words to carry over to Bellamy.

She hears his lounger squeak a little and when she glances to the side, she sees that he has also lain down on it, mimicking her position.

“No roof terrace at the princess’ castle?” he asks jokingly, turning his head to meet her eyes.

She stretches a leg out to kick him lightly in the shins.

“Well, there is a shared one for everyone in the building,” she admits. “But it’s used a lot by the other tenants, so it’s never really private. I do have access to a patch of roof by the elevator shaft, though I think it’s probably for maintenance and not supposed to be used for anything else. It is nice when I want to get some air, but it’s tiny, just enough space for a couple of folding chairs, really.”

“Oh, well, that just won’t do.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”

“I was obviously spot on with my assessment of you as a princess,” Bellamy continues, but there’s a teasing look in his eyes. “So where is this mansion? Upper West Side? Soho?”

“Brooklyn, actually.” She can tell that he wasn’t expecting that. “And I inherited the apartment when my parents died, my grandfather bought it back in the eighties.”

He immediately looks horrified with himself. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Clarke assures him with a smile. “It was years ago, not that I don’t still miss them, of course, but…”

“Time does help you heal,” he finishes for her with a knowing smile.

She returns the smile, but there’s an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach. This is what she tells strangers if it comes up, but with Bellamy’s own background, it feels… dirty, somehow, to make him think that they have this shared experience of losing parents.

“It does,” she still agrees, but quickly changes the subject. “So, when you’re not delivering packages or studying, what, ancient Greece or World War II…”

“Right now it’s the industrial revolution,” he interjects.

“Right, so when you’re not busy with all of that, what does Bellamy Blake enjoy doing during the five minutes he has off every week?”

He laughs at that, turning so he’s once again looking up at the sky.

“Time off, yes, I remember that vaguely,” he retorts. “I don’t know… I usually sleep, to be honest. Try to keep up with my school work. My roommate drags me out of my room to play video games a couple of times a week and forces me to go out with him and his boyfriend at least once a month. He claims it’s so I won’t completely lose touch with the real world.”

Clarke laughs. “So he’s your Raven, basically,” she notes. “She usually bullies me into going out with her and Zeke when she decides it’s been too long since I left home for something other than work.”

“If she’s anything like Miller, I am genuinely sorry.”

“Nah, she’s not too bad… if it weren’t for her, I’d probably spend most of my time on my couch, eating Ben & Jerry and watching Netflix with my cat.”

Bellamy chuckles. “That actually sounds like the perfect Friday night to me. Minus the cat, of course, but just because our landlord doesn’t allow pets.”

“You can borrow mine for some cuddling whenever you want,” Clarke replies, realizing a second too late what she’s said.

The moment turns charged and she can feel his eyes on her, but resolutely keeps hers on the sky, even as he speaks. “I might take you up on that.”

They both stare up at the barely visible stars above them in silence for a while.

“That’s the one thing I miss in the city,” Clarke then says. “Being able to really see the stars.”

“Small town girl?” Bellamy asks.

“I guess so, I grew up in Arcadia, California,” she replies. Again, not a full-blown lie, she did live there her first years as a Soul Keeper.

His eyebrows furrow for a moment while he probably tries to figure out where that is. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Arcadia, California,” he finally admits, and she chuckles.

“I’m not surprised, it’s a tiny town close to the Nevada border, about ten minutes from the I-15,” she tells him. “I had the best star-gazing spot right in my own back-yard.” Of course, it had helped that there was no electricity in Arcadia, or anywhere nearby, at the time. Literally no light pollution.

“Me and Octavia used to go up on the roof of our building,” he says. “It was nothing like this, of course, just a normal roof. I don’t even think we were allowed up there, the door from the stairwell was supposed to be locked, but it was broken… we’d bring a blanket and pillows and spend all night up there, in the summer. I learned all the constellations so I could tell her about them.”

Ignoring the incessant voice in the back of her mind that tells her it’s a bad idea, Clarke sits up so she can move the head of her lounger closer to Bellamy’s before lying back down.

“Will you show me?”

They glance at each other at the same time, heads only a few inches apart now, and for a moment, Clarke thinks he might kiss her and wonders exactly how awkward that would be with that damn helmet. But then he turns back to the night sky above them.

“I can try…”

He points up at the sky and Clarke inches closer, so she can follow his finger.

“That’s the moon.”

She elbows him in the side, getting a chuckle in return.

“Seriously, though, hang on…”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it – the screen is one of those standard backgrounds that comes with the phone. As she watches, he opens his app store and writes something, clicking install on the first free app that pops up. When he clicks the icon to open the app, the screen turns black and small dots appear and disappear, words written next to them.

“You seriously downloaded a star map?” Clarke asks incredulously when she realizes what it is.

“You wanted me to tell you about the stars,” he replies with a shrug. “We can’t see them here, this is the next best thing. Now, are you paying attention?”

She rolls her eyes but focuses on the phone when he holds it up at arm’s length, turning it on the side. With his other hand, he points beyond the phone, at the actual stars.

“So, that’s Ursa Major, the Big Dipper…”

That’s how Raven finds them, Clarke has no idea how much later.

“There you are!” she exclaims, and Clarke pushes herself up into a sitting position, squinting against the harsh light coming through the open door. “I was starting to wonder if you’d decided to take the train home in that dress.”

“Funny,” Clarke replies.

“Sorry, we must have lost track of time,” Bellamy says, closing down the app. The clock on the home screen says that it’s after one in the morning. “We should get out of your hair.”

“No, there’s no rush. Miller and Jackson already left, so you’re on your own anyway,” Raven catches Clarke’s eye and winks. “Take your time, Clarke can lock up when you leave.”

“No, we’ll go,” Clarke insists, getting up from the lounger. “I should get home anyway.”

“Yeah, me too,” Bellamy says, getting to his feet next to her.

They follow Raven down the stairs and even though she knows the party’s over, Clarke’s still surprised by the silence.

“I just need help to get this thing off, Rae,” she says when they reach the master bedroom.

Raven gives her a smirk. “Oh, I’m sure…”

“Now, please, Raven,” Clarke cuts her off before she can suggest that Bellamy helps with that instead.

Raven sighs but follows Clarke into the master bedroom and pulls the zipper in the dress down when Clarke turns her back.

“So… have fun?”

Clarke knows very well that the question is a lot less innocent than it might seem. “Not the kind of fun that you’re implying. You do know there are buildings around here, right? Anyone can see what you do up there.”

“It’s dark out, babe, and people are out trick or treating, I doubt anyone would have seen. Besides, this skirt would be perfect for hiding more… interesting activities.”

Clarke doesn’t reply, instead stepping out of the dress and pulling her own clothes back on.

“I noticed he’s still wearing that helmet, I’m guessing that means you still haven’t gotten a look at his Number?”

“I decided against asking him to remove it so I could find out,” Clarke replies drily. “Figured it might sound a bit weird.”

“There are other ways to get him to take it off, you know,” Raven says, wagging her eyebrows.

“Night, Rae.”

Bellamy’s leaning against the wall when they emerge from the bedroom, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth up when he sees her.

“Ready to go?”

“Yup.”

Raven walks them to the door, giving Clarke a hug and telling her to text when she gets home, as usual.

When they exit the building, Bellamy stuffs his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket he grabbed on the way out.

“So… Brooklyn, you said?”

“Yeah, down by the river.”

He nods. “Nice… fancy a post-midnight stroll?”

“It’s, like, an hour’s walk,” she argues, but he just shrugs.

“I don’t mind. I actually have tomorrow off, and I can just take the train from York all the way to Forest Hills.”

“Still…”

He starts walking backwards along Battery Place. “You know, the more you argue, the longer it’ll take.”

Realizing she’s fighting a losing battle – and one she doesn’t even want to win, to top it off – Clarke just shakes her head and hurries to catch up with him.

“Tell me about your cat,” Bellamy says when she loops an arm through his.

So she does, and he in turn tells her about a stray cat he sort of adopted growing up, and the injured animals – birds, rabbits, even a squirrel, once – that his sister seemed to attract like a magnet and that he ended up taking care of.

They talk their way through the city, switching topics easily, and next thing Clarke knows, they’ve crossed Brooklyn Bridge and are almost at her place.

“So…” Bellamy starts when they stop outside the door to her building. “I’m glad Miller made me go to this thing tonight.”

Clarke takes a step forward at the same time as he reaches forward to tuck a still curled strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek.

“I’m glad Raven forced me to go,” she admits, her eyes dropping to his mouth.

They lean in at the same time, Clarke’s forehead bumping against the helmet he’s still wearing.

“Hang on,” he says with a chuckle, his fingers leaving her cheek and she knows he’s taking off the thing she’s spent all night waiting for him to remove, but she can’t force her eyes to leave his. She hears the thump when he drops the helmet to the ground.

Then he’s kissing her, and Clarke’s lost.

It’s soft at first, almost chaste, but soon enough, he traces the seam of her lips with his tongue, asking her to let him in, and she willingly does, wrapping an arm around his neck and pressing herself closer at the same time.

She feels his hands slide around to her back, one coming to rest just below her waist, pulling her even tighter against him, the other tracing up her spine and finally stopping between her shoulder blades.

She loses track of time completely, it’s just them in that moment, Bellamy’s lips on hers, his warm body pressed against her, the low moan she draws from him when she pulls his bottom lip into her mouth, his hand moving lower, slipping into the back pocket of her jeans.

He’s the one to pull away first, looking as dazed as she feels.

And that’s when she finally sees it. His Number.

268.


	4. If You Never Try You’ll Never Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys - or at least everyone who left a comment - liked the last chapter! Again, picking up where we left off - how will Clarke handle finding out Bellamy's Number? Read on to find out ;)
> 
> As always, I don't own anything relating to The 100, I'm just borrowing them for a little while. Lots of thanks to Liz for her help with the story :)
> 
> Chapter title from “Fix You” by Coldplay

  1. Bellamy’s Number is 268.



He has less than nine months to live.

The look on Clarke’s face must reflect the shock she’s feeling, because Bellamy frowns at her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it.

“What’s wrong?”

This was a bad idea. She knew that all along, she just didn’t know _how_ bad of an idea it actually was. She couldn’t even imagine this…

She has to get out of here. Has to put some space between them, has to _think_ so she can make a rational decision, and she can’t do that when he’s looking at her like that.

She puts on a smile that she hopes he’ll buy. “Nothing, I just realized that it’s getting pretty late and I have a shift at the library at ten tomorrow.”

It’s not true, she doesn’t have anything tomorrow until two in the afternoon, and even that’s a Transfer. But she can’t tell him the truth.

He still doesn’t look convinced, so she reaches up to give him a quick kiss, pulling back when she feels his hand sneak around her waist again.

“I really do have to go,” she says, trying to sound reluctant and not like she can’t get away from him fast enough.

He sighs. “Fine, I can take a hint.”

He doesn’t sound too upset, though, just a little disappointed, so it seems like he’s buying her excuse and not thinking he’s getting ditched all together. Hoping that he won’t remember that they haven’t exchanged numbers, Clarke quickly pulls her keys out of her purse and moves to the door.

“I’ll call you, OK?” she says, shooting him a smile before unlocking the door and slipping inside.

The door closes before he can say anything else, but she can still feel his eyes on her as she crosses the lobby. They burn into her back, and she has to force herself to not turn around. Thankfully, the elevator is already waiting and she slumps back against the wall when the stainless steel doors close.

Damn it! As the elevator shoots upwards, she bangs her fists against the wall and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears gathering there from falling.

She knew it was a bad idea to let him in right from the start, even when all she had to worry about was that he was a Norm who would eventually grow old and die. But this…

She’ll just have to stay away from him from now on, she decides. It can’t be that hard, New York is a big city. She can totally do that. She hopes.

The elevator doors open with a ding and she trudges down the hallway to her apartment, feeling like every limb weighs about a ton. She unlocks the door with sluggish motions, drops her purse and coat on the floor just inside, kicks her boots off and continues straight into the bedroom where she flops face first onto the bed.

When she feels the pillow getting wet against her cheeks, she realizes that the tears she was fighting to hold back have escaped anyway, and rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling instead. She hasn’t bothered to turn the lights on, so she can just make it out in the faint light coming from the street lamps outside.

A soft thud announces Bastet’s presence, and soon the cat pads onto Clarke’s chest, turning once, twice and plopping down facing her. She blinks slowly, her bright green eyes only a few inches away.

Clarke reaches up to scratch her behind the ears and she immediately starts purring.

“I still have you, Bas, huh?” she murmurs, using her free hand to wipe away the tears.

And for so long, that’s been enough. Bas, her friends, the occasional one night stand or short fling when she started feeling a little lonely, it’s been all she’s needed.

But now she knows that there’s something, some _one_ , more out there, and she’s not sure she can let that go. Even if she knows it won’t be her decision in the end.

She apparently falls asleep at some point, because the next time she cracks her eyes open, grey light is streaming in through the windows.

Bastet has moved off her chest and curled up on the pillow on the other side of the bed, her little purring snores a comforting presence in the room.

Clarke pushes herself into a sitting position, blinking to get her eyes open properly despite the dried-in mascara. She knows, without even glancing at the mirror, that she must look like a raccoon, so she just strips off her clothes, tosses them in the hamper on her way to the bathroom, and steps into the shower.

She feels marginally better when she emerges fifteen minutes later and wraps herself in her fluffy robe before venturing out from the bedroom.

She’s not particularly hungry, but she knows she hasn’t eaten anything in over twelve hours, so she opens the fridge to see what might be on offer.

Not much, as it turns out. She really needs to go grocery shopping… She pours a glass of orange juice and toasts two slices of bread which she spreads some Nutella on before bringing everything into the living room.

A glance at the clock on the wall tells her that it’s after eleven in the morning. She’s not sure exactly when she got home, but she must have slept for eight hours or so. She really should feel more rested than she does…

A noise from the hallway makes her pause with the last piece of toast halfway to her mouth. It takes her a moment longer than it probably should to realize that it’s her phone, ringing in her purse where she left it last night.

Shit, Raven. She’d promised to let her know that she got home OK, but it had completely slipped her mind.

Not that she had been exactly OK when she got home, but still…

She stuffs the rest of the toast into her mouth and hurries into the hallway where she digs around her purse and finally finds her phone.

“I am so sorry!” she answers after swallowing down the last of her breakfast.

_“I hope you realize that there is only one acceptable reason for ignoring my texts last night and my calls this morning,”_ Raven says. _“And that is that you dragged your delivery guy home and have spent all night getting good and laid.”_

The reminder makes Clarke wince.

“No, just slipped my mind,” she says as she returns to the living room, flopping down on the couch.

_“What’s wrong?”_

Damn it, how can she tell just from those five little words?

“268.”

The line is quiet for a long moment.

_“Fuck.”_

It’s pretty much the reaction Clarke had been expecting but she still feels her stomach drop and realizes that part of her had been hoping that Raven would offer a solution, even if she knows that there isn’t one.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

_“What are you going to do?”_

“Avoid him, I guess. I mean, what else can I do? He doesn’t have my phone number… unless you or Zeke gave it to him?” The thought makes her stomach turn. Yes, she might be able to handle staying away from Bellamy if she doesn’t have to see him or talk to him again, but she’s pretty sure that resolve would crumble if he called her or if she ran into him. But really, what are the odds of that happening _again_ in a city the size of New York? Twice is already unlikely.

_“Of course not, and I’ll tell Zeke not to give it to him if he or Miller asks, either, if that’s really what you want,”_ Raven assures her. _“Just… are you OK?”_

“No.” Clarke feels tears rise in her eyes again and squeezes them shut. “But I will be, I just need some distance.”

_“If you say so.”_ Raven’s doubtful voice doesn’t exactly improve her own faith in that. _“I’m here if you need me. To eat your feelings or get wasted… or, you know, talk.”_

“I know, but I think it’s better to just get a clean break,” Clarke says. “You know, not talk about him, try to get him out of my head.”

_“Whatever you need, babe.”_

“Thanks, Rae. OK, I’ve got to go, I have a Transfer in a couple of hours and I need to pull myself together before that.”

_“OK, call if you need me. Love you.”_

“Love you too.”

-100-

Clarke can’t really throw herself into work to keep herself occupied – she’s assigned Transfers on a predetermined basis which she can’t affect herself, all she can do is activate the unavailable status in the app, in which case she won’t get any at all, or change the areas she’s willing to work in, but even that wouldn’t really give her _more_ to do, it just might mean she’d have to travel more for her Transfers, and more time on public transportation isn’t really what she needs. She doesn’t want to take on extra library shifts only to have to cancel if she ends up double booked either, so instead, she dives head first into her art. She stops at her favorite art supply store on her way home from her Transfer the day after Halloween to stock up on canvases, a new sketch pad and some oils and charcoals.

She sometimes takes commissions through her Etsy store, and she has one of those waiting, so she starts with that. This one happens to be one of her favorite types of work, just a basic request – _I want something that captures the feeling of the beach_ – and a couple of color preferences, no strict instructions or photos for her to turn into drawings or paintings.

She finishes the commission in a couple of days and sends it off, and then she just starts painting as an outlet.

Her canvases are angry, vicious slashes of red, black and other dark, murky colors. Her strokes are so violent she almost slices holes in the material more than once as she pours all her sadness, disappointment and anger at the universe into them.

She’s never sold anything so quickly in her store as these paintings. She supposes a lot of people can relate, she’s not the only one mad at the world.

Her sketchbook, which she only gets out late at night when she’s curled up in bed or on the couch, looking out over the twinkling lights beyond her windows, is a whole other story. It’s filled with page after page of Bellamy. A snapshot of the day they met, his eyebrows raised under the baseball cap and a smirk pulling one corner of his mouth up. His hand wrapped around her wrist, freckles dotting his skin, even though she’s not sure he has freckles on his hands. Close ups of his eyes, mouth, nose… A full body drawing of him at Halloween, in that stupid football uniform with the helmet on his head. His hands reaching up against the sky, pointing out stars to her.

On the last page, she does a more in detail portrait. She works on it for days, getting every little aspect just right – the angles of his jaw and cheek bones, the slightly raised eyebrow, every single freckle sprinkled over his face… The only time she’s ever seen him without something covering his hair was when he took the helmet off for their kiss, and at the time she had been much too focused on his Number to be able to note anything else, but she still tries to capture his hair. She remembers that the strands sticking out from under his baseball cap were dark, almost black, and curled a little at the end, so she draws him with unruly, dark curls. She leaves his forehead blank, doesn’t want to be reminded of the reason she can’t see him, because God, does she want to. Not seeing him, not talking to him or about him has done nothing to alleviate the intense feeling deep inside her that this is _wrong_. That something crucial is missing from her life, and it’s her own fault.

When she’s not working or painting, she takes Raven and her other friends up on every offer of going out, even going so far as to pick up people on the dance floor or at the bar at whatever establishment they end up at. She manages to push the thoughts about how they’re too tall or too short, too soft or too rough, too _different_ away for at least a little while, but she always finds an excuse not to leave with anyone, backing out at the last minute when something inside her starts screaming that _this is all wrong_!

On Saturday morning two weeks after Halloween, Clarke is woken up by banging on her door – much too early, in her opinion. She was out with Jasper, Maya, Monty and Harper last night and honestly can’t remember when she got home. Her head is pounding, so she must have gotten way too drunk – her body’s ability to recover from anything much quicker than normal people’s usually means she doesn’t get hungover, but apparently today is an exception.

She considers ignoring whoever’s at the door, but she has a sneaking feeling that it’s Raven, and she knows that out of the two of them, she’ll be the one to cave first. Besides, Raven has a key for ‘emergencies’, and with the way she’s banging on the door, if Clarke doesn’t open, she might just decide that this qualifies.

Grumbling, Clarke gets up and pulls an oversize sweatshirt over her head before following the incessant knocking to her front door.

Just as she suspected, when she opens it she finds Raven, arms crossed over her chest.

“OK, this has got to stop,” she announces, pushing past Clarke into the apartment.

“Good morning, Raven, how are you? Come on in, I was just going to make some coffee to get my head to stop pounding, would you like some?” Clarke says drily as she closes the door and follows her friend into the living room.

Raven stops in the middle of the room and waits until Clarke has taken a seat on the couch before she continues.

“Look, I get that you’re trying to deal with this crappy situation, but I refuse to just stand by and watch you make yourself even more miserable than you already are.”

“I’m fine,” Clarke argues half-heartedly because, really, she’s not.

Raven snorts. “Is that what you call going out every other night to get drunk and hook up with random people in seedy bars?”

“The Dead Rabbit’s a seedy bar now, is it?” Clarke questions.

“That is not the point and you know it.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Isn’t that what you said after you and Wick broke up?”

It’s a bit of a low blow, and she knows it, but Raven takes it in stride.

“And I stand by that. But you’re not, are you? Getting over _or_ getting under.”

Of course Raven has her all figured out. Clarke averts her eyes, focusing on a loose thread in the cuff of her sweatshirt.

“I’m trying, OK?” she says after a moment, and even she can hear how small her voice sounds.

Raven sighs and sits down on the coffee table in front of the couch, forcing Clarke to look at her.

“Just tell me this,” she asks. “You’re clearly already miserable. Would it really be that much worse if you just…”

“If I what?” Clarke interrupts. “Let myself fall for him, get eight amazing months and then watch him die? Yes, Raven, I’m pretty sure that would be worse.”

Raven’s quiet for a long moment. “I hate to break it to you…” she then starts, “but you’ve already fallen for him. That much was blatantly obvious on Halloween. You’re just in denial.”

She’s right, of course, except about the denial part. Clarke is very well aware of her feelings, she’s just working really hard to push them down.

“It doesn’t matter,” she insists, shaking her head. “It’s just a crush at this point, I’ll get over it.”

“God, you’re so stubborn!” Raven exclaims, rising to her feet and starting to pace around the room. “Look, I get that it would be hard for you when he… I get that, OK? Trust me. But maybe…”

“If you say that it’s better to have loved and lost, I swear, I will kick you out,” Clarke cuts her off.

Raven runs a hand through her hair in frustration. “Please, babe, just listen to me for a moment, OK?”

Clarke nods reluctantly.

“You were there after I lost Finn, you remember what that was like for me,” her friend starts, voice softer.

Of course Clarke remembers that. They had known it was coming, obviously, so Clarke had requested to be stationed in Boston, where Finn and Raven were living at the time.

She hadn’t been there when it happened, Raven had wanted to be alone with Finn at the end, but she had been there after, holding Raven as she cried for days. Coaxing her into eating something, sleeping, eventually leaving the house. Helping her get back on her feet, eventually.

She remembers thinking that she never wanted to experience anything like it, which might, if she’s honest with herself, be one of the reasons behind her no Norms policy.

“But did I ever, even once, say that I regretted it?”

She can’t say yes to that question, because Raven never actually did. Clarke had just assumed that she must have… but then again, she hadn’t hesitated when she met Wick half a century later.

“That’s because I didn’t,” Raven continues. “I never regretted loving him, being with him, not even when his death almost broke me. Because that’s life, babe. I know it might not seem like it considering we’re eternally young and basically immortal, but real life is fleeting. And most people don’t even realize when it’s about to end.”

The room is quiet for a long moment. After a while, Raven sits down next to Clarke on the couch, reaching out to take her hand. Bas jumps up on the armrest on her other side, rubbing her head against her arm as if she, too, is trying to be a comforting presence.

“It’s not the same,” Clarke finally says, voice rough with unshed tears. “You and Finn had forty years together, of course that would be worth it. Bellamy and me… we wouldn’t even get a year.”

“I know,” Raven admits. “But still… just think about it, please? I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Clarke nods slowly. “I will.”

“Promise?” Raven pushes. “You know I won’t just let this go.”

“Promise.”

“OK!” Raven claps her hands together and gets up from the couch. “I have done what I came to do, and I have a Transfer in half an hour, so I’ve got to go.”

Clarke walks her to the door, leaning against the wall as her friend stuffs her feet into her boots and puts on her coat.

“And just…” Raven pauses, biting her lip as if not completely sure she should say whatever it is she’s about to say. “Just remember that you’re not the only one this concerns.”

“What do you mean?”

Raven sighs. “He’s miserable too, OK?”

Clarke’s stomach immediately plummets. She’s been so focused on keeping herself busy over the last two and a half weeks, on _not_ thinking about Bellamy, that Raven’s words feel like knives twisting in an open wound. She can make herself miserable if it means avoiding even worse pain in the end, but making _him_ miserable… the thought makes her entire being revolt.

“How… how do you know that?” she asks, voice shaky. “Did you…”

“I haven’t seen him,” Raven answers the unfinished question. “He asked Miller to talk to Zeke about you, but Zeke just said that he couldn’t give him your number without asking you first, and that you were still getting over a bad breakup so he didn’t know if you’d want to get into something new right now.”

Good excuse, Clarke notes absentmindedly. Not the truth, but then again, it’s not like that’s an option.

“He hasn’t said anything since, but according to Miller, he’s in a constant bad mood, Miller complains to Zeke every day at work that it’s like living with Oscar the Grouch.”

Raven is trying to make light by joking, but Clarke just feels worse. It honestly hadn’t even occurred to her that their meeting affected Bellamy as much as it did her and that her doing what she thought was best for her and staying away from him would make things worse for him too.

He deserves better than that. What right does she have to make his life miserable, especially when he has so little of it left?

“So try to _really_ think about this, OK?” Raven continues. “From all perspectives.”

Clarke just nods, and with a quick hug, Raven’s gone.

She returns to the living room in a daze, almost sitting on Bastet, who’s stretched out on the couch in her absence.

“Sorry, Bas,” she apologizes but the cat just gives her an offended look and struts off to her favorite spot by the large windows, where the sun has warmed the floor.

She is going to think about this, she definitely is. But right now, she’s hung over, her head is pounding and she feels slightly sick – though that part is probably more from the conversation with Raven than her hangover – and basically everything hurts.

So she gives herself a day. She doesn’t have a Transfer today, and no work scheduled until five in the afternoon, so she’s going to veg out on the couch until she has to leave, eating all the ice cream in her freezer and binging _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_.

And then, tomorrow, when she’s feeling like herself again, she is going to sit down and look at the situation from all angles and make a decision about how to move forward.

She knows, somewhere deep down, that the conviction that she’s been doing the right thing has already crumbled. But she pushes that thought away for now and lives in denial for a little longer.

-100-

She has every intention of going home after her shift at the library the next day and making a decision about the Bellamy situation. And yes, she is about 99 percent sure that the decision will be to try to get in touch with him to at least assess the situation. It is possible that Raven was exaggerating to get her to do something, or Miller might have been blowing the situation out of proportion when he was complaining to Zeke. Or, a tiny voice somewhere in the back of her mind says, Bellamy might have decided that he’s not that interested in her and moved on. It is the normal reaction to rejection, after all.

The thought makes her stomach twist.

In the end, though, she doesn’t get a chance to think the situation through, because half-way through the story she’s reading for the group of four-year-olds gathered around her, she spots him between the stacks.

Their eyes meet across the room and Clarke trips over her words, her heart racing in her chest. She looks away resolutely, focusing on the book in her hands. He will just have to wait, she’s in the middle of Sunday Storytime right now.

She manages to focus on the book, at least well enough that the kids don’t notice anything. By the time she’s hugged the last of them goodbye and waved them off with their parents, Bellamy’s gone.

She should probably be relieved – she’s had no time at all to really gather her thoughts and decide on a course of action since Raven’s intervention yesterday morning – but instead, she feels a surge of disappointment.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and sends a quick text to Raven.

**Did you tell B I would be at the  
library today?**

Raven must have had her phone in her hand, because the little speech bubble indicating that she’s typing pops up almost immediately.

“You’re quite the story teller, Miss Griffin.”

The deep voice coming from behind her almost makes her drop the phone, and in an instant, her heartrate picks up while the butterflies in her stomach that had started flapping their wings wildly when she thought he had left finally calm down.

“I thought you’d left,” she admits as she turns around, getting a raised eyebrow in return. It draws her eyes to his Number – 251. She forces her eyes back to his.

“No, that’s _your_ specialty,” he replies drily.

Clarke looks down, busying herself with closing down her message app and putting her phone away for a little longer than is strictly necessary, ignoring the buzz that announces the arrival of Raven’s response. “I am so sorry about that,” she apologizes. “I just… I don’t know, everything was just moving a little too fast for me.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, but she can feel his eyes on her.

“It’s OK, I get it,” he finally says, and she looks up again. There’s a half-smile on his face, a little sad around the edges, she thinks, and his eyes are soft. “Zeke explained that you got out of a relationship recently. Just… tell me it wasn’t just me? There was… there _is_ something here, right?”

She can’t do anything but nod quietly, Bellamy’s eyes piercing as he watches her silently.

A loud thump makes Clarke jump and look around, remembering that they are still, in fact, at the library – the noise was a little girl trying to reach a book on the top shelf a few rows over and instead knocking it to the floor.

“Listen…” She turns back around just as Bellamy drops his eyes and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “It’s almost time for lunch, do you want to get something to eat?” he asks, eyes fixed on the floor between them.

Clarke realizes that he’s preparing to be shut down.

She has a Transfer in the East Village at four, but it’s only half past twelve, so she has plenty of time before she needs to take the train over to Manhattan.

“I’d like that,” she replies, smiling when Bellamy quickly looks up at her again, a slightly surprised but happy expression on his face. “There’s a place just around the corner from here with the best brunch in Brooklyn, maybe New York, that you can get until four on weekends… and if you’re really set on actual lunch, they do great sandwiches too.”

He gives her a smile that’s so bright it’s almost blinding.

“Lead the way.”


	5. So Come a Little Bit Closer Where You and I Can Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, and happy holidays – I can’t believe I forgot when I posted the last chapter! I hope you’re all enjoying your time off (if you get any) and get to spend time with your loved ones :) 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who took the time to read, bookmark or leave kudos or comments on the last chapter – you guys all make my day every time I get an alert from AO3! And a big thanks to my wonderful beta, Liz, for her help
> 
> Oh, and, I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Be My Girl” by John and Jacob

They leave the library and emerge into the weak fall sunlight. Another beautiful day. For the first time in over two weeks, it doesn’t annoy Clarke because now, it doesn’t feel like the weather is mocking her and her dark mood. She takes a moment to breathe in the crisp air, turning her face to the sun.

“It’s this way,” she then says, nodding towards the crossing over Eastern Parkway.

“Is this your go-to place when you’re working?” Bellamy asks while they wait for the light to turn green.

“I guess you can say that,” she replies. “I usually treat myself to their brunch at least once a week, either Saturday or Sunday, depending on my schedule.”

She has four shifts at the library a week, two homework sessions during weekdays and two story sessions on the weekend, alternating morning and afternoon, so when she has a morning shift on Saturday, she does brunch on Saturday, and same on Sunday. She’s in no way addicted to Cheryl’s amazing food. Nope.

“I haven’t been in this part of the city a lot, so it’s not that familiar to me,” he admits as they cross the street. “I usually stick to Forest Hills and the surrounding areas, even though my work does take me all over the city.”

“No work today?” Clarke asks, and he shakes his head.

“I worked yesterday, I always have one day off during the weekend and one weekday off.” He grimaces a little. “Though most of my free time is sucked up by school work, to be honest.”

“Then I’m extra honored that you took the time to see me,” she says with a sideways smile. “Though, speaking of… how exactly did you know I was here?”

She has a sneaking suspicion that Raven might have had something to do with it, not trusting Clarke to actually re-evaluate the situation like she had promised. She would have thought her friend would give her a _little_ more time before taking things into her own hands, but then again, this _is_ Raven.

Bellamy gives her a sheepish half-smile and she’s almost sure she detects a hint of a blush at the tips of his ears. “Well, I didn’t want to come off as an actual stalker to your friends, so I didn’t want to ask them,” he starts. “So I kind of… I called a couple of libraries to ask if they had someone by your name on the payroll.”

Clarke digests that information for a moment. She’s glad Raven obviously has a bit more faith in her than she thought. And weird as it may seem, it’s kind of flattering that Bellamy would go to all that trouble, that he thinks she’s worth it… even if it is kind of borderline stalker behavior.

“I’m not sure you’re doing all that well with the whole not acting like a stalker, if I’m honest,” she says eventually, but loops her arm through his to show that she’s only teasing him. “Can they even tell you that? It seems like it must break some sort of confidentiality law.”

“They couldn’t, no,” he replies. “But I think the woman I talked to at this place took pity on me. I had already called, like, five different libraries, getting the standard ‘we’re not at liberty to tell you that’ answer from all of them and I was getting a little desperate… she didn’t really tell me anything, though, she said something like she couldn’t confirm or deny that, but if I wanted to find out for myself I might want to stop by between two and three thirty on Saturday or eleven and twelve thirty on Sunday. I would have come yesterday, but I had work, so…”

Clarke can’t help but laugh at that. “That’d be Vera, she’s a sweetheart but a busybody and gossip like you wouldn’t believe. She’s been trying to set me up with every single man and woman between the ages of twenty and thirty-five since I started working there.” She pauses. “But I’m actually surprised this hasn’t gotten back to me – a _boy_ calling about Clarke Griffin? That’s big news around here.”

Bellamy joins in her laughter, sounding more than a little relieved.

They manage to get a table at Cheryl’s, which isn’t a given on a Sunday – Clarke has had to get her food to go more than once. The waitress takes their drink orders and then leaves them to peruse the menu. Not that Clarke needs to, she has it committed to memory by now. So instead, she watches Bellamy, noting the way his eyes move over the page, how his brows furrow just a little when he stops at something and his lips move, almost like he’s reading quietly to himself.

“Anything look good?” she asks after a few minutes.

He looks up from the menu. “ _Everything_ looks good. What are you getting?”

“I have a couple of favorites that I alternate between, today’s pancake day,” she tells him. “But, yeah, everything is good, you really can’t go wrong no matter what you pick.”

He closes the menu and puts it aside. “Well, the pancakes look very tempting but I think I’ll get the eggs, bacon and toast.”

“Good choice,” Clarke replies with a smile.

The waitress returns with their drinks at that moment, and they put in their order for food as well.

“So…” Bellamy starts when she’s left again. “Considering you’re sitting here with me, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I haven’t completely scared you off by showing up unannounced at your place of work after invading your privacy and quite possibly committing a felony to find you?”

She considers him for a moment, a slight tension still obvious in the way he’s fidgeting with the napkin and only meets her eyes briefly before looking down at his drink.

“Nope,” she finally says, watching his shoulders relax. “I know you probably won’t believe me, but I was going to get Zeke to ask Miller for your number.”

She hadn’t actually come to that conclusion yet, but considering Raven’s little speech already had her resolve wavering, she’s pretty sure she would have, so it’s not really a lie.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “You’re right, I’m not sure I believe that.”

“That’s fair,” she says with a grimace. “I was just… like I said, it felt like things were moving a little too fast. It’s not that I didn’t want you to kiss me, I really did, but in the moment… I think I was a little overwhelmed. Not by you, just… it’s been a while since I felt like that.”

That much is true, it’s been decades since she’s felt the way she feels about Bellamy, if she ever has. She loved both Lexa and Wells, but this… this is already on another level. Which scares her, and not just because of his Number.

“I get that, and I really don’t want to be some rebound,” he says. “So if that’s what this will be to you, just tell me now.”

Clarke quickly shakes her head. “No, that’s not… no. I freaked out, yes, but not because I’m not over her, because I am.”

Even though her relationship with Lexa is the one that’s furthest away timewise, she can’t imagine using her relationship with Wells as a difficult breakup. Plus, it’s a nice test to see if Bellamy has some sort of reaction to the ‘her’ part. Maybe he’s completely biphobic and she can write him off after all.

But he just nods.

“The breakup was rough?” he asks.

“It wasn’t easy,” Clarke replies with a shrug. “I thought things were fine and then she just told me, completely out of the blue, that she’d accepted a job offer in Australia and was leaving in a month.”

He freezes with his orange juice halfway to his mouth. “Did she expect you to just up and leave everything to go with her?”

“No, she thought we could use some time away from each other, that we’d been drifting apart,” she says. “Which, OK, now that I can look at it objectively, she was right. But at the time, it was hard to hear.”

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy offers. “So she’s in Australia now?”

Last she’d heard, back in the seventies or something, Lexa had been in South America somewhere. Clarke definitely hasn’t been keeping track of her, but they have common acquaintances so she does hear about her now and then.

“I would think so, but we haven’t actually had any contact since she left,” she hedges a little, hating to flat-out lie. It’s a difficult balancing act, trying to be as truthful as possible without revealing too much. Another reason she never really gets too close to Norms – it’s so much work to just maintain a normal relationship.

He nods slowly. “I can’t say I’ve been in that kind of position, but breakups are never easy.”

She wants to ask about what is obviously a personal experience, but the waitress brings their food and distracts them both.

“Wow!” Bellamy exclaims when she’s left. “This looks amazing. But those pancakes… I might be having second thoughts here.”

Clarke cuts a piece of pancake and pops it into her mouth along with some berries and cream. “Mmmm…”

His eyes narrow at her, and she laughs.

“Tell you what – I’ll trade you one pancake for some eggs and a slice of toast.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I should eat something a little less sugary, so really, you’re helping me out here.”

They shift the food on their plates around a little, making enough room so Clarke can move one of her pancakes and some berries to Bellamy’s plate, and get a slice of toast, some scrambled eggs and a couple of pieces of home fries in return.

“I swear, their scrambled eggs are to die for,” she says after swallowing a mouthful.

“I’m with you on that one,” he agrees, soaking some of the toast in the fat from the bacon before taking a bite. “This is definitely worth the forty minute drive.”

“And here I thought I was the main attraction,” she retorts, teasing.

“Sorry, you’ve been demoted to second place,” Bellamy shoots back without missing a beat.

“Well, I guess I can take that, if it’s for this food… as long as I’m still up there.”

“Top three reasons to come to Brooklyn, for sure.”

Clarke smiles at that, and their eyes meet and lock for a long moment, food temporarily forgotten. She swears she can feel the electricity surge between them, and she thinks he does too, because his eyes darken and she can see his fingers tightening around his fork.

She’s the first to force her eyes away, looking down to cut another piece of her pancake.

“So, Forest Hills,” she says after swallowing, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as shaky as it feels, and tries not to think about what he’d be able to do to her if he actually got his hands on her, considering just a look has her this worked up. “Born and raised or how did you end up there?”

Bellamy seems to have snapped out of the moment as well, focusing on his food again.

“My mom’s originally from Chicago, but she left when she was eighteen. I was born in Detroit about a year and a half later and then we moved to New Jersey when I was… four,” he says. “Paterson. I lived there until… seven years ago, when my sister moved out. I could have stayed, I guess, my commute to work wasn’t that much longer than it is now, but an old high school friend asked if I wanted to move into his place, since he had a spare bedroom. His grandfather had just moved into a retirement home, and Miller had been living with him for a while so he would be able to take over his rent controlled apartment in Forest Hills. It was a no brainer, really, considering how much the same type of apartment would cost somewhere else.”

“That’s, like, a pot of gold,” Clarke notes, voice full of awe. “A rent controlled apartment in New York City… I thought they were a myth.”

She lived in a rent controlled apartment before she bought her current place back in the forties, but these days it’s basically impossible to get them.

Bellamy chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I figure I used up a life-time of luck on that apartment.”

“Are you sure you didn’t sign a contract from someone with a pointy tail and horns?” she jokes. “Perhaps giving up your soul, or your first-born?”

“I knew the landlord looked a little odd!”

They both laugh for a moment.

“How about you? You said you inherited your apartment from your parents, so you didn’t really pick Brooklyn, I guess?”

Clarke shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee to be able to think through her answer. “I mean, I could have sold the apartment and kept my childhood home, or sold both and bought something else entirely. But I always loved that apartment – when my grandpa bought it, it was the top floor of an old factory, and he turned it into an apartment but it still has that _feel_ , you know?”

He nods. “Your grandfather must have been ahead of his time, doing a New York style loft apartment in the eighties.”

“I guess so,” she replies with a shrug. Actually, Raven has told her the same thing as a joke more than once, how Clarke’s the originator behind that type of living and should get credit for it. “After I graduated from college, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do… I was lucky, in a way, I could sell the house my parents left me and live in my apartment. It gave me some time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.”

“Which you have?” Bellamy asks.

She laughs. “For now, at least. I mean, in the long run I’d like to work with art, but it takes time to get there… I’m happy where I am right now.”

“That’s a good place to be,” he agrees with a half-smile.

“It is… and you? History degree, so what’s your dream?”

Bellamy pushes the last pieces of eggs around his plate for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he then says. “I’m not sure what you can actually _do_ with a history degree, to be honest. I’ve been considering getting a teaching certificate, actually. I don’t know if it’s a dream, but I think I’d like that, teaching kids about history… maybe I can help someone in a difficult situation, offer them an escape the way history and mythology offered me when I was a kid.”

The fact that he’ll never get to find that out cuts like a knife into Clarke’s chest. It’s just not fair – why shouldn’t Bellamy get that? She just knows he’d make an amazing teacher, why should the world be deprived of that?

“That sounds nice,” she manages to get out, swallowing down the lump that’s formed in her throat.

“We’ll see,” he replies. “I still have a year and a half left before I get my Bachelors, I might have changed my mind by then.”

You won’t, she almost blurts out. You’ll never get your degree, because you won’t live long enough.

“You’ll figure it out,” she says instead.

Her phone, which has been buzzing on and off since she sent the text to Raven, gives an extra long buzz in her pocket – the alarm she’s set for when she would need to get ready to leave for her four o’clock Transfer – and Clarke glances at her watch. Two thirty. It’s about a ten minute walk to the station on 7th Avenue, then maybe twenty minutes on the train to Broadway-Lafayette and finally another ten or so to the restaurant on East 2nd Street where the Transfer is.

“You need to get going?” Bellamy asks, having spotted it.

“I need to be in the East Village by four, so not for half an hour or so,” she replies with a smile. “No need to rush.” Still, she nods at the waitress so they can pay and not have to worry about that when she has to leave.

“Another library shift?”

He already thinks that’s her job, so why not? “Yeah, I read to younger kids at a couple of different libraries in the city on the weekends, and then I help older kids with their homework in the afternoons on the weekdays. It doesn’t quite add up to full time, but I have time for my art, and since I don’t have to pay rent, with the pieces I sell I get by fine.”

“What kind of paintings do you do?”

“It varies a lot,” Clarke tells him. “I take some commissions, so then I usually get either a general spec, or an actual image people want reproduced – photos of family, friends, pets…”

Bellamy nods. “And if you just paint for you?”

“It depends on my mood. I prefer abstract motifs – when I’m happy I usually pick bright colors, and when I’m not I tend to lean more towards darker.”

“Do you have anything in the store now?”

“I do, actually. Do you want to see?”

“I’d love to,” he says with a smile.

Clarke moves her chair around the table so he can see the screen easier and pulls out her phone. She has five texts from Raven, but she ignores them for now. She’ll already be pissed, she can wait a little longer. She opens her Etsy page and Bellamy leans in closer.

“So that one’s a happy painting?” he asks, pointing at the first painting.

It’s one that’s been in the store for a couple of months – bold brushstrokes in bright blue and green, which makes Clarke think of the ocean.

“Yeah, it is.”

“But not that one?”

The second painting is one she finished just a few days ago and the difference is striking – the strokes are still bold, but angrier in this one, and the color palette is black, grey and blood red.

“That obvious, huh?” she says with a chuckle.

“They’re both beautiful, though,” Bellamy replies, scrutinizing the third painting on the screen. “Not that I’m an expert or anything, but I like them. You’re seriously talented.”

Clarke feels herself blush a little, like she always does when someone compliments her art. “Thank you.”

Their waitress pops up with the check and they spend a few minutes arguing over who’s paying – in the end, they split it down the middle.

When the waitress has left with the money, Clarke again glances at her watch. Two fifty-seven. She groans.

“Now I really do need to leave,” she says with a frown.

“Right, let’s go.”

Bellamy helps her put her coat back on and holds the door open for her. They head back the way they came and paus at the parkway.

“I’m going that way, catching the train on 7,” Clarke says, nodding to their right. “You drove? Where did you park?”

“Over on St. Johns,” he replies. “So we’re going the same way for a little longer.”

“Come on, then.”

She loops her arm through his and they head off through the chilly afternoon – the sun has disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds while they were at the diner.

They walk in silence, again stopping when they reach the corner of Plaza and St. John.

“I guess this is my exit,” Bellamy says with a half-smile, making no move to go.

“Guess it is.”

“So… can _I_ call _you_ this time?”

Clarke rolls her eyes at the teasing tone in his voice. “Give me your phone.”

He takes a step away from her, instantly making her miss his warmth pressed against her side, and pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket, unlocking it before handing it to her. She puts her number into his contacts before giving it back.

Instead of putting the phone away, he clicks the screen and a moment later, Clarke’s phone starts buzzing in her pocket.

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” she says amusedly, pulling the phone out and clicking to reject the call.

Bellamy just raises an eyebrow. “Can you blame me? We have this amazing night and then you run off as soon as I kiss you, literally leaving me standing in the middle of the street.”

Clarke can’t help but blush. “Right… touché. What can I do to make it up to you?”

He starts walking backwards, maintaining eye contact. “Answer when I call you.”

Clarke laughs. “I can do that.”

“You better.”

Bellamy raises a hand in a half-wave, which she returns, and then turns away from her, disappearing into the parking garage after a moment. She takes a deep breath before turning around herself.

Her phone, which is still in her hand, buzzes just after she’s crossed the street and she expects it to be another text from Raven. Instead, it’s from an un-known number.

_I had a good time today. Thanks  
for not calling security on me._

She smiles and is just about to click to add the number to her contacts when another text comes in.

_This is Bellamy, by the way.  
In case that wasn’t clear._

Of course he texts with perfect grammar and punctuation. She sends a message back before finally adding his number.

**I kind of figured that out**

_Just wanted to make sure._

She crosses another street before typing out her reply.

**I had a good time too**

**I’m glad I didn’t call security ;-)**

She closes down her messages, still ignoring the ones from Raven, and opens her work app to make sure there hasn’t been any changes to her Transfer.

_Margaret Jones, female, 87. November 18, 4:05 PM. COD: cerebrovascular disease._ The coordinates haven’t changed, and Clarke closes the app down.

Bellamy hasn’t responded, and she assumes it’s because he’s driving, so she’s surprised when her phone buzzes a few minutes later, just as she’s reached the subway station.

_The impression every guy wants  
to make on a first date._

She actually laughs out loud as she reads the message, getting a weird look from a couple of teenage boys coming up the stairs.

**I hope you’re not driving and  
texting**

His reply comes a moment later.

_Red light._

She types out a final response before descending into the station.

**About to hop on the train, might  
lose service. Drive safe!**

She gets a thumbs up in return and puts the phone away to be able to swipe her MetroCard.

Once she’s on the train, she finally opens Raven’s messages – she’s sent seven in the last two and a half hours.

_no, Y?_

_he there?_

_hello???_

_srsly, w@s happening?_

_u can’t just send that and  
disappear _>_<

_i’m assuming ur ignoring me  
bc ur getting laid :-P hf_

_call_ _me when u can_

Raven’s big on keeping her text messages short and loves using emojis and abbreviations – especially ones that Clarke doesn’t get. She’d like to think she’s getting better at it, though, she understands everything in these messages… except maybe hf.

Sometimes she suspects that Raven makes up new abbreviations just to mess with her.

Instead of replying to all the messages, she taps to call her friend.

_“Well, finally!”_ she answers after half a ring.

“Sorry, lost track of time,” Clarke apologizes.

_“Having sex, I hope? Though it’s been over two and a half hours… so if you were, congrats.”_

Clarke snorts. “God, you’re seriously way too obsessed with me getting laid. Sorry to burst your bubble, we just went for brunch.”

“We _being you and Bellamy at least, right_?”

“Yeah,” she confirms with a sigh.

_“So… how’s that resolve doing? Will you be able to stay away from him or did he manage to change your mind?”_

Clarke remembers the way her heartrate picked up when she saw Bellamy at the library earlier, and the way her stomach dropped with disappointment when she thought he had left. No, she knows it’s best to just admit defeat and embrace the situation.

“No resolve left,” she admits. “I mean, your little speech yesterday already had me wavering, and I can’t… just thinking that I might not see him again makes my stomach hurt.”

It’s true, she has a lead weight in her stomach just talking about it.

_“Aw, babe…”_ Raven sighs over the line. _“No matter how this turns out, I don’t think you’ll regret taking this chance.”_

The train’s approaching her stop, so Clarke moves through the cart to the doors.

“I’m not so sure about that…” she replies after a moment.

_“Whatever happens, I’m here.”_ Raven’s promise is unnecessary – Clarke already knows this – but it still makes her feel better.

“I know.”

_“So did you make plans, or are you just going to continue bumping into each other all over town?”_

The switch to a slightly lighter topic is a relief. “We didn’t make any plans, no, but he insisted on calling me this time, and we’ve been texting since we split up.”

_“OK, good start. Listen, babe, I’ve got to run but keep me posted. And try not to overthink this, please.”_

Clarke knows that there’s no way she won’t do that, but she still promises Raven before hanging up the phone and getting off the train.

She has a new message from Bellamy when she emerges onto the street again, sent a few minutes ago while she was speaking to Raven.

_Why is everyone and their uncle  
out driving today? Been stuck at   
the light on Jamaica/Pennsylvania   
for ten minutes!_

She giggles at the annoyed tone that somehow comes across even in the text and quickly types back.

**Hang in there :-) At work soon,  
talk later?**

It’s started raining a little by now, and Clarke pulls her hood up over her hair as she sets out on Houston. She has fifteen minutes to spare, so she picks up her pace a little, weaving between people and ducking for umbrellas.

The block where her goal is located is a standard New York residential area with fire escapes climbing the brick facades as far as she can see. The restaurant is housed in the bottom floor of one of these buildings, and Clarke tries to peak through the windows discretely as she passes. She doesn’t see much, but it’s fine, it’s not like she _needs_ visual confirmation of her assignment. She does prefer it, but that’s just a personal hang-up, it doesn’t actually affect the Transfer in any way.

There are no benches close to the restaurant, so she leans against the wall just past it instead. She would ideally like to be sitting down, but she figures it’ll look suspicious if she sits down on the sidewalk, so this will have to do.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket to check the time. 4:03. Any minute now.

Just as she’s about to put the phone back, there’s another text from Bellamy.

_Definitely :-) Home now.  
Have fun at work._

The smiley makes Clarke smile too, and she stares at the message for a moment before finally putting the phone away.

Just in time for the memories to wash over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get real emojis in the fic, but I have no idea how to do that. I've seen it done in other stories, so if anyone knows how it works, feel free to leave instructions in a comment :) For now, character based emojis it is


	6. I Want to Dive into Your Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2020 guys! Hope your year has gotten off to a good start... Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter, and a special thanks to those who took the time to comment, favorite or leave kudos, I've had a bit of a crap week so every single alert from AO3 has been a nice distraction
> 
> I don't own anything relating to The 100, as always, and also as always - a big thanks to my wonderful beta Liz!
> 
> Chapter title from “Here Comes the Rain Again” by Eurythmics

Margaret has lived a happy life, as far as Clarke can tell from her memories. Most of them are tinged with joy – bright summer days from her childhood, meeting her husband, her wedding, the birth of her children, Christmases and birthdays and anniversaries, family holidays and, eventually, grandchildren and even a couple of great-grandchildren. And her sad memories – a brother lost in the Vietnam War, various funerals for grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles – are the normal, every-day sad memories that Clarke has mastered over the years. Even if they do tug on her emotions, they don’t get to her the way they used to.

When the memories fade, she’s still leaning against the wall of the building next to the restaurant. She can hear the vague sounds of commotion inside it – Margaret’s friends or family, whoever she was having an early dinner with, have obviously realized what’s happened. Sirens blare in the distance, but considering this is New York, Clarke doubts they’re for Margaret. Even if someone’s had time to call 911 already, it will be a while before they get here.

She mumbles her little prayer before taking a couple of deep breaths, letting her mind settle back into itself, and pushing away from the wall. For a moment, she doesn’t remember exactly where she is or which way she has to go to get back to the subway that will take her home, but then the light fog clears and she starts heading back in the direction she came from. Transfers are always a little discombobulating, going from your own mind to someone else’s and back again, even if this one was about as easy as they come.

The rain is starting to come down harder now, so she sets out at a quick pace towards the subway station. It’s quickly turning into one of those fall days when all you want to do is curl up under a cozy blanket on the couch, light some candles and drink hot coca. Clarke goes through the contents of her pantry in her head and she’s pretty sure she has all the ingredients she needs for that, so at least she won’t have to stop at the store.

When she’s on the platform, away from the rain, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, but apart from some Facebook notifications, there’s nothing new. She opens the message thread with Bellamy and starts typing, before realizing that it’s only 4:20. She said she had work at four, so it would be odd if she was already done, twenty minutes later. She’ll have to give it at least another hour.

Sighing, she instead opens up Spotify, pops in her headphones and starts one of her playlists. She scrolls through Instagram lazily, liking a couple of posts, and then checks her schedule for tomorrow. Just two Transfers, both in Brooklyn. She also has a homework session at the library in the afternoon, so quite a busy day, at least for her.

When she emerges from the subway, the rain is really pouring down. Despite her somewhat waterproof jacket, Clarke’s completely soaked by the time she gets home.

It’s not like she can get sick, but being cold is never fun anyway. She hangs her jacket up carefully, so it won’t get anything else wet, and heads into her bathroom, which is one of her favorite spots in the whole apartment – there’s a huge window and from the big tub she has an amazing view of the East River and Manhattan beyond. Wells once asked if she wasn’t worried someone might be able to see in, since there are no blinds or curtains she can close, but really, the only ones who might are people with telescopes on the other side of the river, and Clarke reasons that what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

She starts the water running, turning the heat up until it’s almost too hot for her to stick her finger under the flow. When she’s happy with it, she pops in a strawberry scented bath bomb before going into her bedroom to get undressed and put her damp clothes in the hamper. She resolutely leaves her phone on the nightstand – she is not going to think about Bellamy, or try to compose a text in her mind, for the next hour. She’s not. She’s going to put him out of her thoughts completely, so she grabs the book she’s reading at the moment and brings it with her into the bathroom.

Once the water’s high enough, she turns the tap off and gathers her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. She puts her book on the little table next to the tub – which usually holds a glass of wine, but not today – hangs a towel on the peg on the wall and finally sinks into the steaming hot water.

Once she’s fully submerged, the bubbles tickling her chin, she closes her eyes and lets out a deep sigh.

It feels like the day has been much longer than it actually has been, probably in part due to her having slept restlessly last night. Raven’s words were running through her head as she went to bed and eventually seeped into her dreams. She doesn’t remember the actual dreams – she rarely does – but the uneasy feeling that had permeated them stayed with her when she woke up.

And then, seeing Bellamy… it had shaken her initially, and it still does, on some level. A part of her is stubbornly insisting that this is a bad, bad idea and that she should run in the other direction. And she knows this, logically, but emotionally… it’s too late. She’s already in too deep. Which scares her so much. But the alternative, not seeing him again, trying to stay away from him like the last couple of weeks, is even worse.

Clarke’s definitely not convinced that Raven was right, that eight months will make eventually losing him worth it, but she is starting to see that she might get there.

Right, she was going to _not_ think about Bellamy for an hour. That went well.

She opens her eyes, gazing out at the grey November afternoon for a long moment before drying her hands and picking up her book.

She manages to get engrossed in the plot, her thoughts only straying a couple of times over the next half hour. When the water’s starting to cool into lukewarm, she pulls the plug and dries off enough so she won’t drip all over the floor before stepping into the shower to rinse off.

When she leaves the bathroom, she pulls on her comfiest sweatpants and a too big Oxford sweatshirt that she stole from Wells last time she visited him in England. She finishes the outfit off with a pair of thick, fluffy socks and grabs her phone, deliberately not looking at the screen, before going out into the living space.

She grabs milk from the fridge and the other ingredients from the pantry before putting a pot on the stove and pouring milk into it – it’s quicker in the microwave, but the taste just isn’t quite the same.

Soon enough, she has a steaming mug of cocoa in her hands and brings it to the couch. The sun had already set by the time she got home, and darkness has wrapped the city in a soft blanket by now, the heavy rain making the lights across the water flicker.

Bastet jumps onto the couch with a purr and curls into a ball pressed against Clarke’s thigh. She scratches the cat behind the ears for a moment, before raising the mug to her lips.

Heaven, as always. The recipe is Raven’s originally, and according to her, the secret is just a pinch of salt to go along with the cocoa powder, sugar and vanilla extract. Clarke has tried to find a better combination over the years, experimenting with everything from cinnamon to hazelnut syrup, but so far she’s been unsuccessful.

She finishes half the mug before finally caving and pulling her phone out of the large front pocket on her sweatshirt, where she stashed it earlier. It’s almost 5:45 by now, so realistically, she could be on the subway heading home after an hour and a half shift at the library.

To her surprise and delight, there are several messages from Bellamy, delivered while she was in the bath.

_I bet you’re having more fun with  
the kids than I am with E.A. Wrigley._

Clarke frowns at the odd sentence before moving onto the next text.

_That looked much weirder in writing  
than it sounded in my head – he   
(she? No idea) wrote the book   
I’m supposed to read for class._

_What I meant to say is that I am  
spending the rest of my Sunday   
catching up on school work and   
I’m bored out of my mind._

_And you’re still at work._

_Hope you don’t drown on the  
way home ;-)_

She smiles as she finishes reading. The last message came in just twenty minutes ago. She taps to write a reply.

**I don’t think it’s hard to have more  
fun than reading about, what,   
steam engines and the Spinning   
Jenny?**

**Made it to the subway with minor  
water damage, but I still have to   
get home…**

She ignores the swooping feeling in her stomach when the speech bubble pops up immediately.

_Glad you survived the treacherous  
journey to the subway. At the   
moment I’m on cotton mills,   
so much fun… Work good?_

**Yeah, it was fine**

She doesn’t feel that bad about the response – work was fine, it just wasn’t the work she told him she was doing.

**Wrigley kicking your butt?**

The reply takes longer this time.

_I love history, I really do, but this  
course is one of those where I   
need to keep reminding myself   
that I love it. Not my favorite subject,   
it’s too… modern. _

_Give me Hannibal’s invasion or  
the Trojan War any day._

Clarke actually laughs out loud at that.

**It takes a real history nerd to have  
actual favorite historical events :-P**

_History buff, thank you very much._

She considers her reply for a moment, debating pointing out the double meaning of the word ‘buff’… she has a sneaking suspicion he might fill both criteria, even though she hasn’t gotten a good enough look to really make a judgement on the more physical aspect. She wouldn’t mind investigating this further, though…

**I don’t know about that… I kind of  
thought most of your Halloween-bulk  
came from the football gear ;-)**

It takes a while for the speech bubble to appear. Then it disappears… and appears again. When it disappears for the second time, Clarke puts the phone on the table and goes into the kitchen to rinse out her mug and put it in the dishwasher. She hears the ping of an incoming message just as she closes the door to it and does in no way hurry back to the couch.

_Well, well, miss Griffin… I’d be  
happy to prove you wrong._

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, relieved that her little innuendo didn’t scare him off, and sinks into the couch again, pulling a soft blanket over her legs. The one downside of the huge open space in her apartment is that it’s a little tricky to get warm.

**Promises, promises…**

It’s been a long time since she’s experienced this easy, teasing banter with underlying sexual tension. They didn’t even have text messaging back when she was dating Wells, and she and Niylah didn’t really do it much. This is… fun.

_How’s your week looking?_

A sense of anticipation – which is surprisingly similar to the butterflies she felt earlier today – spreads in her stomach as she opens her job app to check her schedule. She has the two Transfers and the homework session tomorrow, a Transfer around noon on Tuesday and one just before midnight, a homework session on Wednesday afternoon, one Transfer on Thursday morning and two in the evening, two storytimes during the weekend, plus a Transfer on Saturday and two on Sunday evening. Friday she doesn’t have anything booked, which isn’t all that uncommon, but usually only happens a couple of times a month

**Work Monday-Wednesday and  
Saturday-Sunday, and a thing with   
Raven Tuesday evening**

_When do you get off on  
Wednesday? I don’t have any   
classes that night._

Her shift at the library on Wednesday is from three to five, most kids come straight from school, and she’s usually out of there a few minutes after five, since they want to get home too and she doesn’t have to stay to help the library staff clean up after them.

**Should be home by 5:30 at the  
latest. What did you have in mind?**

_You’ll just have to wait and see ;-)  
Pick you up at 7?_

Clarke’s not big on surprises, but she supposes she can make an exception.

**Great :-) Can you at least give me  
a hint so I know what to wear?**

_Nothing too fancy… I’m afraid  
my budget doesn’t stretch to   
five star restaurants._

Despite the complete lack of facial expressions and conversational clues offered by body language in a normal conversation face to face, she can almost hear the contrite note in Bellamy’s voice.

**Good, five star food is the worst!  
We’d just have to stop by Emmy   
Squared on the way back ;-)**

Again, the answer takes a while.

_I had to Google what that was…_

_I did tell you I’ve barely spent any  
time in Brooklyn, right?_

The idea that anyone in New York City doesn’t know Emmy Squared is mindboggling to Clarke. She’s about to say as much when another message pops up.

_But at least I know what I need to  
live up to ;-)_

She huffs.

**Yes, my expectations are huge**

_:-) Home yet?_

She checks the time. 6:10. She could be home by now if she was on the subway half an hour ago.

**Just walked through the door.  
Completely soaked, stupid rain**

_You better warm up, don’t want  
you catching a cold. And I should   
get back to this book, still have   
almost 100 pages left :-(_

For a moment, Clarke considers replying with something along the lines off ‘wish you were here, the best way to warm up is shared body heat’, but in the end, she decides against it. It feels just a tad too forward at this stage.

**Is that your nice way of  
telling me to stop texting ;-)**

_Not because I want to… but I  
should probably try to focus.   
I’ve been reading the same   
sentence over and over for   
the past half hour._

She didn’t really think he wanted to stop talking to her, but hearing him actually say that he doesn’t – or, well, type it – still makes a warm feeling settle in her stomach.

**I’ll try not to take it personally ;-)  
seriously, do your study thing  
I have _Jessica Jones_ to catch up on**

_Really? Have you been living  
under a rock? You’re   
waaaay behind :-P _

Clarke rolls her eyes.

**I know, shut up and study!**

_Yes, ma’am. Enjoy the show.  
Talk tomorrow?_

The warm feeling spreads to the rest of her body.

**Sure thing :-)**

She does have _Jessica Jones_ to catch up on, she only discovered the show recently and has a bunch of episodes left, so she gets Netflix up on the TV and starts the next one.

She manages to follow the plot well enough to know what’s going on, even though her thoughts keep straying. She heats up some leftover Chinese food from yesterday after a couple of hours, and has just decided to finish the current episode and then call it a night when her phone beeps again.

It’s 10:47 and she half-expects it to be Raven, who usually scrolls through her Instagram before going to bed and almost always sends some weird post from one of the workout enthusiasts she follows to be able to make fun, but it’s not.

_OK, I’m having trouble keeping my  
eyes open, so I’m calling it a night._

_Jessica still keeping you  
entertained?_

She smiles as she replies.

**Got about 10 min left on this  
episode, then I’m turning in too**

_OK. Just wanted to say goodnight :-)_

**Night :-)**

She looks at the screen for a moment longer before closing the message app down and locking the phone.

She can still feel the smile on her face right before she falls asleep.

-100-

When she wakes up the next day – she didn’t bother setting an alarm, since she doesn’t have a Transfer until half past eleven, which means it’s after eight – there’s a message from Bellamy waiting.

_Morning! Hope you slept well :-)  
Have a good day._

It’s nothing much, but still a nice start to a grey Monday and it makes a warmth settle in her stomach that counteracts even the rain pouring down outside.

She takes her time with breakfast, making an omelet with some ham and cheese – breakfast is one of few things she can make without setting off the fire alarm – and a peanut butter sandwich, and settles at the bar counter separating the kitchen from the living room with her food. She still has a good view out the large windows, but at the moment, she can barely make out the buildings on Manhattan, the heavy rain almost completely obscuring them.

She sends a reply to Bellamy – **Slept very well, thank you :-) hope you did too. Stay dry and have fun at work** – and tries not to be too disappointed when there’s not an immediate response. He’s working, most likely driving, and shouldn’t be looking at his phone anyway.

Still, when her phone pings an hour or so later, her stomach does a little swoop.

They text more or less regularly over the next couple of days. Sometimes it’s an hour or more before one of them replies – usually Bellamy, while he’s driving or in class in the evenings, but Clarke has to keep him waiting while she’s at the library – and sometimes they go back and forth in an intense discussion for as much as hours at a time. They talk about everything from hobbies to travel experiences – Bellamy’s never been out of the country but dreams about going to Rome or Greece one day, to see the ruins of the ancient societies he loves reading about, something that Clarke makes a mental note of – from favorite foods to favorite movies and TV-shows.

He texts her when he’s annoyed because he’s stuck in traffic, or when a client is especially ignorant, and she texts him when she spots a couple of guys moving a couch on the subway. Really, it’s New York, she shouldn’t be surprised.

They always say goodnight in the evening, and there’s always a message waiting for Clarke when she wakes up in the morning, since he usually starts work at eight and leaves home early.

By Wednesday, she’s already gotten used to this new routine, even though it’s only been barely three days.

They’ve only texted, though, so she frowns when her phone actually rings just moments after she’s sent a response to Bellamy’s question about favorite concert experience – in reality, it would probably be Queen at Wembley Stadium, but since that was in 1986, she can’t exactly say that, so she went with the only one of her top ten that’s from the last ten years, Fleetwood Mac in Madison Square Garden in 2014.

The image on the screen makes it clear that it’s Raven calling, though, and she quickly answers.

“Hey, Rae.”

_“Hello, stranger,”_ Raven’s voice comes over the line.

“Stranger?” Clarke questions. “We talked on… Sunday.”

_“Exactly!”_ Raven exclaims. _“When was the last time we went more than two days without talking or texting?”_

Clarke opens her mouth to say that she’s overreacting, but then she realizes that she’s actually right. They usually text a couple of times a day and talk every day or every other day.

“Sorry, I guess I’ve just been a little busy,” she apologizes.

_“I would hope so. OK, spill.”_

Clarke rolls her eyes, picking up on Raven’s innuendo without a problem. “Not busy like _that_ , Rae. We haven’t even been on a date yet, we’ve just been… texting.”

It’s quiet for a long moment. _“Oh my God, you’re so lame!”_ Raven then exclaims. _“What are you waiting for?”_

“It’s not that easy, he has work and classes, today’s the first evening he’s had off since the weekend.”

_“So you’re going out tonight?”_

“Yes, Mom, we’re going out tonight.”

Raven ignores the jab. _“When? Where?”_

Clarke has to start getting ready if she’s going to make her shift at the library, so she puts Raven on speaker and leaves the phone on the nightstand while she opens the closet to find something to wear. “He’s picking me up at seven and I don’t know. He wanted to surprise me.”

_“We all know how much you love surprises…”_

She grabs a pair of jeans and a sweater – it’s not raining today but the temperature’s dropped to the low forties.

“Shut up, they can be nice,” she says before pulling the sweater over her head to the sound of Raven’s laugh.

_“I still remember the surprise party Wells threw for you in sixty-eight, I thought you were going to dump him right then and there.”_

In her defense, she’d just gotten home from a particularly grisly Transfer – an entire family killed in a house fire – so when Wells, Raven and a bunch of their friends had jumped out from behind the couch, she’d just about had a heart attack. That is the main reason she’s not too fond of surprises these days, though.

“There were extenuating circumstances and you know it,” she grumbles, buttoning her jeans.

_“Yeah, yeah. OK, so checklist.”_

Clarke groans. “Do we have to?”

_“It’s been, what, five years since you went on an actual date?”_ More like seven, but she’s not going to tell Raven that. _“So yes, we have to. I won’t let you scare this guy off because you’re out of touch with proper dating etiquette.”_

Clarke pulls her hair into a ponytail and turns the speaker phone off as she leaves the bedroom. “Fine.”

_“Shaving?”_

“I need to shower when I get home from the library, so I’ll do it then.”

_“Nice lingerie?”_

She actually did go shopping yesterday. “Check,” she just says. No need to tell Raven all the details.

_“What are you wearing?”_

She puts the phone down for a moment, to pull on her coat, before answering. “He said nothing too fancy, so I figured jeans and that black shirt with the silver buttons.” It’s one of her favorites.

_“No, do the purple top with the low cut and gold details,”_ Raven says. _“It really makes your eyes pop.”_

Clarke rolls her eyes as she locks the door behind her. She doubts Raven’s main reason for wanting her to wear that top is that it brings out her _eyes_. “He’s already seen me in your stupid princess dress, I don’t really think it matters what I wear.”

_“That doesn’t mean you should just not make an effort,”_ Raven insists.

That’s true… and Raven is way better at fashion and coordinating outfits than Clarke is herself.

“Fine, I’ll try it on, but I make no promises.”

_“Good. I have a Transfer at six, but send me a pic of the finished product so I can approve.”_

Clarke considers refusing, but it’s not like Raven will let it go until she agrees.

“Will do. Now I really have to run, my library shift starts in half an hour.”

_“OK, fine. But I want all the details tomorrow!”_

“Yeah, yeah.”

She hangs up before Raven can say anything else, just as the elevator doors open. Her phone buzzes a moment later, and she finds a text from Raven.

_4got Y I called – Thanksgiving  
2moro, when R U coming over?_

Right, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, Clarke had nearly forgotten. She and Raven always celebrate together when they can.

**Got a Transfer in Battery at 8:30**  
in the morning, so I thought I’d   
come straight over after that

**Watch the parade**

She watches the speech bubble as the elevator descends.

_Gr8! help w food appreciated :-)_

Clarke’s not really much of an asset in the kitchen, which Raven knows very well, but she sends a thumbs up back to say that she’ll at least be there for moral support before putting the phone in her pocket and leaving her building.

She’s more than a little distracted during the homework session, which the kids of course notice. Somehow, Charlotte – a bright sophomore at the nearby high school that Clarke’s been helping get ready for the pre SAT’s during the fall and who is now anxiously waiting for her results – figures out that Clarke has a date. This, of course, means that all the kids – luckily, only about a third of them showed up today since tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and they got off early from school – are teasing her by the end of the session.

But before Clarke leaves, Charlotte gives her a big hug and wishes her luck, which sort of makes up for it.

She has about an hour to get ready when she gets home, so she immediately jumps in the shower and yes – she does shave.

Better safe than sorry.

She puts on her new lingerie – a navy blue bra with pretty lace details, and matching panties – and her favorite pair of jeans, before trying on both tops. After scrutinizing herself in her full body mirror, she has to grudgingly agree that Raven’s suggestion does look better.

She does a light makeup – she doesn’t want to look like she’s trying _too_ hard – and braids some of her hair away from her face. She’s just topped everything off with a pair of gold hoops and sent off the requested text to Raven when there’s a knock on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I promise the date is coming up - soon ;-)


	7. Just a Touch of the Fire Burning so Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last – the first date! I hope you like it :) Thanks to my beta Liz for her help with the chapter
> 
> Same old, same old – I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Just a Kiss” by Lady Antebellum

Clarke unlocks the door and opens it to reveal Bellamy on the other side, a bouquet of flowers in fall colors in his hand. A smile spreads on his face when he sees her and despite the fact that she _knew_ it would be him, she feels her stomach do a little flip.

“Hey,” he says, holding out the flowers. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she replies, taking them from him and stepping aside to let him into the apartment. “Let me put these in water. Do you want a quick tour before we leave, or do we need to hurry?”

He passes her and steps into the hallway that’s a sort of anteroom before you get into the apartment proper. Since it’s so open, Clarke wanted to have some sort of divide so you didn’t step right into it. Plus, she’s always hated arriving at someone’s home and being directed into a bedroom to drop her jacket.

“I’d love a tour, I’ve been curious about this place.”

She gestures at him to go ahead of her and watches his eyes widen when he takes in the open living area.

“Wow…” he says, looking around. “You have the whole floor?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah. When my grandpa bought the place, it was all one open space. He wanted most of this to stay open but didn’t want the elevator to go into the actual apartment, so he just put up a wall along the whole floor to make the hallway outside and the cloak room in here. When I moved in, I had some work done out in the hallway too, so half is a sort of storage room now.”

The whole floor is about 3,600 square feet, though 600 of those are the hallway and storage area outside the actual apartment, and the open plan living area takes up about 2,000 square feet. The kitchen is in the middle, against the only wall, though it’s open on three sides. The other side of the wall, which faces the Brooklyn side of the building and the entrance, where they’re currently standing, is lined with book cases. On this side, there’s also a secondary living room with a bunch of cozy, winged armchairs grouped around a fire place with an electric fire, and a sort of home office, with a huge desk with Clarke’s computer. The kitchen is state of the art, even if Clarke doesn’t cook much – gleaming appliances and wooden work tops over white, high gloss cabinets line the wall, and the kitchen island stretches along the entire space, dividing it from the main living room. On the side facing Manhattan, which is glittering in the distance at the moment, there’s a large dining table, seating ten, in the middle and to the left of it, the huge, comfy U-shaped couch that Clarke practically lives on at times, complemented by a 65 inch TV hidden away in an entertainment center. To the right, where there are windows in two directions, is her ‘work corner’, with a currently empty easel as well as a few shelves for her supplies. A couple of paintings in various stages of being finished are leaning against the wall.

The left third of the apartment is taken up by the two bedrooms. The guest room is first, with windows facing the building across the street, and has a walk-in closet and a bathroom that can also be accessed from the main living area. Clarke’s own bedroom is next to it, with windows on two sides and, in her opinion, the best view in Brooklyn.

She leads Bellamy along the left wall, letting him peak into the bedrooms, before continuing into the living/dining room and then the kitchen, where she finds a vase in one of the cupboards. She fills it with water before arranging the flowers in it and putting them on the dining table.

“Didn’t you say you had a cat?” Bellamy says, looking around the large, open space. Clarke mimics his movement before shrugging.

“She’s not very social, it takes her a while to warm up to new people,” she explains. “She’s probably hiding somewhere, she usually does when there’s someone at the door. Want to get going?”

He nods and follows her back out into the entryway.

“And I thought your friend Raven had an amazing apartment,” he says as he waits for her to put her boots on. “This… this is… I don’t even know. I’m not sure how, since it’s so huge and open, but it’s cozy somehow.”

That’s the feeling she had been going for when she had the place renovated earlier in the year, before she moved back in for the first time since she left New York last time, just before the turn of the millennium. She’s rented the apartment out during the nineteen years since – she hates to leave it empty and loves being able to let other people, who might not be able to afford a place like this normally, get a taste of this kind of life.

“Thanks,” she says with a smile before locking the door behind them. “It’s my… escape, I guess you could say, from the hustle and bustle of the city. A safe haven, sort of.”

“I can definitely see why.”

They take the elevator down to the lobby, where Clarke waves to the night doorman, Mike, before they step out into the cold November evening. Bellamy leads the way right and then around the corner, before stopping by the passenger side of a beat up truck and opening the door for her.

“You actually managed to get a parking spot?” she asks when he’s rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she checks it to find a text from Raven – a thumbs up and an emoji with an erupting volcano, which she assumes means Raven approves and she looks hot. Of course, knowing Raven, it could have a completely different meaning with more sexual connotations.

He laughs as he starts the engine. “Yeah, I was thinking of stopping and buying a lottery ticket on the way or something, that just doesn’t happen.”

“Exactly,” she agrees. “So… are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “Can’t wait another fifteen or twenty minutes?”

“So somewhere in the city,” Clarke concludes.

“Your powers of deduction are extraordinary.”

She tries to wheedle him a little more but gives up by the time they cross the Manhattan Bridge. It’s a clear night, so she can see the lights on the Williamsburg Bridge further up the river. The moon, almost full, hangs heavy in the sky above them, illuminating the night in its silvery glow. The lights of the city make the stars almost invisible though, she can only make out a few.

“You give up?” Bellamy asks next to her, and she turns from the window. His eyes are on the road ahead, but she can see that his mouth is quirked up a little in a half-smile.

“I know when to quit,” she replies with an exaggerated sigh, and he laughs.

“You’re not great with surprises, are you?”

Clarke shrugs. “Let’s just say I’ve had some… not great experiences with surprises in the past.”

Bellamy frowns and glances at her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I can tell you if it would make you feel better?”

“No, no.” She shakes her head. “It’s fine. It’s just a hang-up, I’m being silly.”

They’ve passed Broadway by now and Bellamy indicates to take the exit.

“We’re almost there, so you won’t have to put up with not knowing for much longer,” he assures her, turning right onto Canal before taking a left onto Eldridge.

Somehow, there’s an open parking space between Grand and Broome, and Bellamy quickly pulls the car into it and turns off the engine. Clarke immediately jumps out, scanning their surroundings and trying to figure out where they’re going.

They’re not technically in Chinatown anymore, but there are a couple of Chinese beauty salons on the other side of the street, and on the side they’re on, there are a couple of restaurants.

“We’re headed this way,” Bellamy says, nodding in the direction they came from.

Clarke loops her arm through his. “Lead the way, Mr. Blake.”

He chuckles as they take off down the street. It’s almost eight in the evening on a Wednesday, but there’s still a lot of people out and about, probably since tomorrow’s a holiday. Little old ladies hurrying along with their shopping, young couples strolling in the cold but beautiful evening.

They stop again after only twenty yards or so, and Bellamy glances at the façade of the building to their left. She turns her attention to it, reading the name of the place.

“Paniq room… we’re going to an escape room?”

The excitement in her voice must be obvious, because he laughs as he nods. “I take it this is a good surprise then?”

“I’ve been wanting to go to one of these again for ages,” Clarke replies, which is true. “Me and Raven and a few other friends did one in San Francisco a couple of years ago, and we’ve been talking about doing it again since then but never gotten around to it. I didn’t even know there was one here, how did you find it?”

“My job’s actually just a couple of blocks from here, so I sometimes pass it if I grab lunch in Chinatown or Little Italy between deliveries,” he explains as he holds the door open for her and they enter the building.

Bellamy’s booked a crime puzzle, and Clarke can honestly say that she hasn’t had this much fun in ages. There’s a family in the room with them, two teenage boys and their parents, and they manage to solve the murder well within the time limit. The kids cheer as they’re let out of the room again, and Clarke can’t keep the smile off her face.

“That was so much fun!” she gushes as they leave.

“Good first date?” Bellamy asks, slipping his hand into hers and interlacing their fingers.

“Great first date,” she replies with a smile. “Eight out of ten.”

“Only eight?”

She shrugs. “Well, no date’s complete without food, wouldn’t you say?”

She can feel him relax next to her. “Any preferences?”

“Not really.” Clarke shrugs. “How about we stroll around and see what catches our fancy?”

They turn right onto Grand Street and talk about the escape room as they pass through the recreational area that stretches between Chrystie and Forsyth Street. There’s loud cheering and laughter coming from their right, where there seems to be a full blown soccer game going on.

Neither of them seem to be interested in the restaurants serving Chinese food that they pass, and it’s not until they’ve reached Little Italy – the iconic sign lit up in the darkness – that Bellamy pauses.

“This looks nice.”

It’s a classic Italian restaurant, the only thing missing the red and white checkered tablecloths. They’re given a table by the large windows overlooking the street outside, and left alone to decide what they want.

They both settle on pasta – spaghetti carbonara for Bellamy and risotto finghetti for Clarke. When the waitress has taken their orders and left, Bellamy leans back a little in his chair and meets Clarke’s eyes, a small smile on his face.

“What?” she asks, returning the smile.

“Nothing,” he replies, shaking his head. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Clarke can hear what he’s not saying and realizes that he was probably at least partly expecting her to come up with an excuse to cancel tonight.

She wants to reassure him, but they’re seated opposite each other and the glasses and flower vase on the table would make it awkward to reach over it, so she has to settle for making her smile speak for her.

“So am I.”

His smile widens at her words, lighting up his entire face and – for the first time today, she realizes with a jolt – drawing her attention for a brief moment to his Number. 248.

She quickly forces her eyes back to his, determined to not let the reminder destroy her good mood.

“So,” Bellamy starts, “do you have any big Thanksgiving plans tomorrow?”

“Not big plans, really,” she replies. “Raven and I usually celebrate together, when we can, so I’ll just head over there in the morning, watch the parade, ‘help’…” she makes air quotes, “… with the food and then some other friends will be over later in the day to eat and basically lounge around.”

“What’s with the air quotes?” he asks with a chuckle.

“I’m not really a great cook,” Clarke admits. “I’m usually on chopping duty, Raven won’t let me near the stove since the Thanksgiving incident of… 2012.”

She hopes he doesn’t notice her slight hesitation – the Thanksgiving in question was in reality back in 1964, and she had to quickly figure out when it would be logical that she and Raven spend Thanksgiving together based on their supposed age. She figures she would have been in college six years ago, so it’s not out of the question.

“What did you do?” Bellamy asks amusedly.

Clarke rolls her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “I _might_ have almost set the turkey on fire… but it wasn’t my fault, there was something wrong with the oven!”

She can tell that he’s trying very hard to keep from laughing. “Uh-huh, I’m sure there was.”

“What about you? How’s your Thanksgiving looking?” she asks in an attempt to switch the attention from her lack of cooking skills. “Do you usually get Thanksgiving off from work?”

He shakes his head. “We never close, even if our capacity isn’t that high on holidays, so unless someone volunteers, which doesn’t happen that much, everyone gets two holidays a year. I worked New Year’s Day and Fourth of July this year, so I get the other holidays off.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Clarke notes. “So what’re you doing tomorrow? Is your sister in town to celebrate with you?”

A shadow crosses Bellamy’s face and he quickly shakes his head. “No, she’s… out of the country right now, and she couldn’t get back for this. I’m going with Miller and Jackson to Miller’s parents’ place. I’ve known Miller since we were kids and I’ve spent holidays with them before, they’re practically family, so it’ll be fun.”

“That sounds nice,” she agrees. Again, she has the feeling that there’s something he isn’t telling her. Maybe he and his sister had a falling out but he doesn’t want to talk about it. She decides not to push, but files the information away for the future.

“Yeah, Miller’s mom makes the best mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie I’ve ever tasted, and she always sends the leftovers with us, so we probably won’t need to cook for a week.”

They both laugh for a moment, before Clarke continues. “That’s not usually a problem at Raven’s place, Jasper never leaves any food no matter how much there is. I have no idea how he stays so skinny, I suspect he’s secretly into the dark arts.”

“Which one’s Jasper?” he asks. “Assuming he was at the Halloween party, of course, if not I’ll have no idea.”

“He was the bartender, actually.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrow for a moment as he tries to remember.

“Right, the mad scientist,” he finally says, making Clarke frown in confusion before she remembers that Jasper had been wearing a lab coat and a pair of goggles on Halloween.

“That’s him,” she confirms as the waitress arrives with their food.

“So you must be pretty close, if you spend Thanksgiving together,” Bellamy notes when the waitress has left, taking a bite of his food.

She shrugs. “I guess so.” It’s not like she can tell him that she’s known Jasper and Monty since the roaring twenties in San Francisco, Maya for almost fifty years, ever since she acted as the other girl’s mentor during her first few years as a Keeper, and Harper for almost as long as Raven, or _how_ exactly they know each other. “There’s a bunch of us that met during college and then somehow ended up in New York. Whoever’s not going home, or doesn’t have family to go home to, are welcome at Raven’s.” She pops some of her pasta into her mouth – heaven.

He nods thoughtfully at that. “I guess that’s what the Millers were back in Paterson,” he says. “Miller’s dad was the police chief, still is, even though he could have retired years ago, and his mom was an accountant, so they were pretty well off. Lived in the nice part of town, unlike us. Octavia and I usually ended up there for holidays when my mom had to work, or if she… didn’t have enough money to do something special.”

Clarke has a feeling that he had been about to say something else than what he ended up saying. She already knows that he and his sister didn’t have the best childhood, based on what he told her on Halloween, but she wonders if there’s not more to it…

She wants to ask him, wants to know every little detail there is to know about him, but this isn’t the time or the place for that. She has to let him open up in his own time.

“I’m glad you guys had somewhere to go,” she just says. “And family isn’t just blood, it’s who you choose. I might not have any close relatives, but Raven’s like a sister to me, and I know that Zeke and Jasper and Monty, maybe even Murphy, would fight over who got to defend my honor if they thought it was necessary.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Was that a subtle warning?”

“Oh, no,” she exclaims, eyes widening as she realizes how he interpreted it. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Relax,” he tells her. “I was just kidding. Besides… they have nothing to worry about.”

His words hang heavy in the air between them, their eyes locked together. Clarke feels her heartrate pick up and wonders if Bellamy is having a similar reaction.

The moment’s broken by the rattling of dishes as the door to the kitchen swings open, and they both look down at their plates.

“How’s your food?” he asks after a beat.

“It’s delicious,” she replies with a smile. “Yours?”

He nods. “It’s really good.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes before he clears his throat.

“So, you suck at cooking,” he says with a half-smirk.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I told you it was the oven.”

“Right. So in reality you’re an iron chef?”

“I didn’t say that,” she grumbles reluctantly. “Fine, I’m a terrible cook. I’ve seriously burned water once.”

Bellamy chuckles at that.

“So if you offer to cook for me, I should run the other way?”

“I never _would_ offer to cook, so you don’t have to worry about it,” she assures him. “Why would I, when there are so many amazing restaurants in this city? And that deliver, too.”

“Good point. So that’s how you survive – take-out?”

Clarke shrugs. “Mostly that and frozen meals. Sometimes Raven or another friend takes pity on me and invites me for a real home-cooked meal. But I mean, take-out’s not just pizza anymore, there’s a lot to choose from, especially here. It’s not like I’m at risk of developing scurvy or something. What about you? Something tells me you’re a good cook.”

“I guess,” he says. “I cooked for myself and my sister when we were kids, since our mom worked a lot, so I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way.”

“What’s your piece de résistance?” she asks, pushing her empty plate to the side and leaning her chin in her hand.

Bellamy finishes off the last of his own food before answering. “Well, my dad was from the Philippines originally, and the only food he apparently knew how to cook was chicken _adobo_. Mom said it was his mother’s, so my grandmother’s, recipe. She taught me to make it when I was twelve, so I’ve had time to perfect it over the years.”

Clarke has a vague memory of eating something with chicken when she, Wells, Raven, and Zeke were in Manila back in the early nineties, and the name does sound familiar.

“I think I’ve had that,” she says, and Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Really? I mean, there are a couple of pretty good Filipino restaurants in the city, but it’s definitely not as popular as some other cuisines.”

Can she just tell him that she’s been to Manila? Maybe, but she remembers that they talked about traveling at Halloween, and she’d tried to downplay it a little – it’s just not normal for someone in their mid-twenties to have visited most of the countries in the world.

“Raven and I went on a bit of a gastronomic journey through New York a couple of years ago,” she half-fibs. They did, actually, or tried to, at least, back in the nineties when they both lived in the city last time. Normally, though, they remembered the idea after an all-nighter out at a club, which meant they were far from sober, so apart from a couple of horrible experiences and finding an amazing Thai restaurant that has unfortunately closed since, Clarke honestly doesn’t remember much. They might have tried Filipino food, but she has no idea. She’s not even sure there _was_ a Filipino restaurant in New York back then. “I think that’s what I had, anyway, it was a chicken dish with rice and vegetables.”

He nods. “Yeah, the basics are really just chicken marinated in vinegar and soy sauce, but apart from that, everyone makes it in their own way. I usually make it with onions, garlic and jalapeños and serve it with rice.”

“That does sound delicious.”

Their conversation is interrupted when the waitress returns to take their plates.

“Would you like to see the dessert menu?” she asks with a blinding smile directed at Bellamy. He raises an eyebrow at Clarke in question.

“Why not?” she says with a shrug, and the waitress disappears for a moment before returning with the menus.

“OK, there are too many options here,” Bellamy complains after a minute.

Clarke chuckles. “When in doubt, go with chocolate has always been my strategy,” she replies. “I think this is one of those situations where I need to apply that.”

“But there’s more than one option with chocolate,” he counters. “However will you chose?”

She scrutinizes the menu for another moment before deciding and snapping it closed. “I’m going for chocolate fondant cake. I’ve made up my mind.”

“That does sound good,” he agrees. “I think I’ll go with the cheesecake with strawberries, can’t go wrong with cheesecake.”

They put in their order and get their desserts quickly. Clarke takes a bite of her chocolate cake, her eyes sliding closed as the taste explodes in her mouth.

“Good?” Bellamy asks, and she opens her eyes to find him watching her, a bite of his own cheesecake halfway to his mouth.

“Amazing,” she replies. “You planning on trying yours or just watching me enjoy mine?”

He raises the fork to his mouth slowly, closing his lips around the prongs before pulling it back out.

Yeah, Clarke can definitely see the upside of watching someone else enjoy a delicious desert.

“Good?” she echoes.

“Really good.” He picks up another bite with his fork. “Want a taste?”

The way he’s watching her, eyes intense and lips slightly parted, and the way his voice drops on the question makes her swallow hard before nodding and leaning forward. Their eyes stay locked as she opens her mouth and takes the bite of cheesecake from the fork he holds up, letting her tongue dart out to lick a few crumbs off her upper lip. It’s hard to tell with Bellamy’s dark eyes, but she’s almost positive she sees his pupils dilate.

She chews in silence for a moment. “That is really good,” she then agrees, voice slightly shaky. She clears her throat before scooping up some of her own dessert and holding it out for him. He copies her movements from a moment ago, leaning forward to accept the fork. Clarke bites her lip as she watches him chew and swallow, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to lean further over the table and kiss her.

“Is everything OK over here?”

The waitress’s cheerful voice interrupts the moment, and they both lean back in their chairs.

“Just fine, thanks,” Clarke says. “Could we have the check when you have a moment?”

“Of course!”

She flounces off again, throwing a final smile over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.

They finish their desserts in silence – a comfortable silence, though. The waitress returns just as Bellamy’s swallowing the last of his cheesecake, putting down the little leather folder in front of him. Clarke quickly reaches over and snaps it away.

“Hey,” he objects.

“Nope,” she says, shaking her head. “You paid for the escape room, I’ve got this.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but apparently thinks better of it and nods. “Fine, be all modern.”

Clarke just rolls her eyes as she gets money from her purse. The waitress, again, appears out of thin air and takes the money with a fake smile.

“Time to get out of here?” Bellamy asks, sounding reluctant, and Clarke sighs and glances at her watch. Just after eleven.

“Probably a good idea,” she agrees. “I do have to get up kind of early tomorrow.”

He gets up and hurries around to be able to pull her chair out and she has to smile – it’s been years, maybe decades, since anyone pulled out a chair for her.

He helps her put her coat on and then holds the door open for her as well, and soon they’re back in the November evening, where the temperature has dropped further. She can see her breath as she exhales and pulls her sleeves down over her hands to keep them warm.

Bellamy loops his arm through hers and they set off at a leisurely pace in the general direction of where they parked earlier.

“So, you had a good time?” he asks when they’ve crossed Mott Street.

“I had a great time,” she assures him, squeezing his arm.

“Did I manage to get a perfect score?”

She’s pretty sure he’s at least partly joking.

“Eleven out of ten,” she concludes, making him chuckle.

“And a gold star?”

“Absolutely.”

They walk in silence for a while, and soon Bellamy’s truck comes into view. He unlocks the car and holds the passenger door open for Clarke to climb in.

The cabin’s cold, and he cranks up the heat as soon as the engine’s on. “It takes a little while to warm up, the heater’s not the best,” he apologizes.

“It’s fine, it’s not that cold,” she replies, scooting over in her seat to be able to lean her head against his shoulder as he pulls away from the curb. He shifts a little so he can put his arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer, or as close as she can get with the console between them.

There’s about as little traffic on the streets as there ever is in New York, and it’s not long before they’ve left Manhattan Bridge behind and are turning onto Clarke’s street. Bellamy parks just outside her building, next to a fire hydrant where there’s not technically a parking spot, and jumps out of the car before she’s even unbuckled her seatbelt. He opens the door for her again and helps her get out of the car.

They cross the sidewalk and she stops outside the doors to her building, turning back to him and trying to figure out how to invite him up without it sounding too much like a sexual invite. Which it is, obviously, but still. You don’t have to be obvious about it.

“I had a great time,” he says before she’s managed to come up with anything.

“Me too,” she agrees with a smile.

He nods, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, and his eyes drop down to her lips for a moment before he meets her gaze again.

“Hope you have a good time at Raven’s tomorrow,” he continues. “I should probably head out, let you get some sleep.”

“Um…” Clarke starts, a little confused, but before she can say anything more, he gives her a quick kiss, much more innocent than she was hoping for, and takes a step back.

“Night,” he says with a half-smile and turns to go back to his car.

She’s frozen in place until he pulls away with a wave through the passenger window and disappears around the corner. Then she snaps out of the daze, pulls her keys out of her pocket and unlocks the door to the building.

She waits until she’s closed her own door behind her before she rummages around in her purse, finding her phone and calling Raven.

_“Hello?”_

“He kissed me goodnight,” she exclaims, voice probably more annoyed than the situation really calls for.

There’s some ruffling on the other end before Raven’s voice returns. _“Clarke? Why are you calling me at a quarter to midnight? And aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”_

“I was. We had a great time, there was a ton of sexual tension, then he drove me home, walked me to the door of the building, kissed me goodnight – and not even a proper kiss, just a peck, really – _and drove away_!”

_“Riiiight…”_ Raven drags the word out. _“Let me just get something straight here. Zeke told him that you were still getting over a bad breakup to explain your disappearing act on Halloween. I assume you went along with that?”_

Clarke kicks off her shoes and manages to get her coat off without putting the phone down. “Well, yeah. I mean, I told him it’s not that I wasn’t over Lexa, just that it felt like things were moving a little fast and that I was overwhelmed.”

_“Lexa, not Wells or Niylah?”_ Raven notes.

Bastet comes up to wind around Clarke’s legs and she picks the cat up with one hand, depositing her on the couch before flopping down on it herself. “Wells and I are still friends, and Niylah and I ended things amicably, I figured it was better to use the _actual_ bad breakup. What’s your point?”

_“Just… did you consider that maybe Bellamy’s just trying to take things slow, to not scare you off again?”_

She didn’t, no. Which… OK, it makes sense.

“Why are you always so smart?”

Raven chuckles. _“I’m on the outside, babe, it’s always easier to be objective in that position.”_

“I suppose… so what should I do now?”

_“I guess that depends on what you want. If you want to hurry things along, you might just have to make the first move yourself. Or you could let him take the lead and take things slow.”_

It’s not like she’s a stranger to taking things into her own hands when it comes to her sexual relationships. She can do that now too. But at the same time… she sort of wants to get swept off her feet. She wants him to show up at her door, push her up against a wall and tear her clothes off.

She might have a problem.

_“Babe?”_ Raven’s voice reminds her that they’re still on the phone.

“Sorry, spaced out. I guess I’ll have to figure out what I want then.”

_“You do that. See you in the morning?”_

“Yup. Thanks for talking me down. Love you.”

_“Love you too.”_

Clarke hangs up and hovers over the message app for a moment, before opening her conversation with Bellamy. It’s only been fifteen minutes since he left, so he’s not home yet, but she types out a message anyway.

**Let me know you get home OK?**

Then she leaves her phone in the bedroom before going into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

She’s just finished a chapter in her book when her phone buzzes on the nightstand.

_Home now :-) hope I’m not  
waking you up._

She smiles.

**Nope, just reading a little.  
Drive OK?**

_Fine, barely any traffic at all._

It’s not a sentence that invites a follow-up, really, and Clarke’s stumped for a moment, not sure what to say. Before she can come up with something, the speech bubble appears again.

_I just realized that I forgot to ask  
you something._

Huh.

**And what’s that?**

_Do you have plans on Saturday?_

She feels the smile making its way back onto her face and quickly checks her job app before responding.

She has storytime at the library from ten in the morning until eleven thirty, and then a Transfer in the early afternoon.

**Free from around three**

**What did you have in mind?**

The bubble pops up and stays up for a while before a response comes in.

_I thought maybe I could cook for  
you? All that talk about chicken   
adobo today made me realize   
it’s been ages since I made it, but   
it’s no fun to just make for myself…   
save me?_

Well, cooking would mean going to his place, or have him come here… definitely more intimate than going out. Maybe she won’t have to make a move after all.

**Well, you did make it sound  
absolutely delicious… fine, I’ll   
save you ;-)**

_Thank you so much :-P my place?  
I have no idea what kind of stuff   
you have in your kitchen, but   
considering your cooking expertise   
I’m not holding my breath._

**Shut up!**

**But yeah, probably not  
everything you need… time?**

_Seven-ish? I can pick you up  
if you want?_

She remembers that he lives with Miller… but maybe he won’t be home? Can she ask? No, that would be weird…

**I can just take an Uber, don’t  
want you to have to drive all   
the way here and back again**

_If you’re sure… let me know if  
you change your mind._

**Will do. Should probably sleep  
now… have a good Thanksgiving!**

_You too! Night :-)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in New York back in September-October and we actually passed by the escape room, and of course strolled around both Chinatown and Little Italy, so that was kind of fun!


	8. Travel down a Road and Back Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much Bellarke interaction in this chapter, I’m afraid, but it’s coming, I promise! Time for some friend time and Thanksgiving – I apologize in advance if I get something wrong, we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here and I’ve never actually been to one!
> 
> Thanks as always to everyone who read, commented or left kudos on the last chapter, and to my beta Liz
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Thank You for Being a Friend”. The original is apparently by Andrew Gold, but I’m imagining the “Golden Girls” version by Cynthia Fee

Clarke’s woken from a nice dream by an incessant chiming sound on Thanksgiving morning. At least she _thinks_ it was a nice dream, she can’t remember what actually happened in it but she’s feeling all warm and fuzzy.

Grumbling sleepily, she blindly fumbles for the offending item – her cell phone – on the nightstand. Coming up empty, she pushes herself into a sitting position with a huff.

Right. She put her phone on the floor on the other side of the room last night after setting the alarm, so she wouldn’t just hit snooze and go back to sleep. She’s definitely not a morning person…

Knowing that she really should get up, she reluctantly throws the comforter off, shivering when the cool air in the room hits her bare skin. She pauses for a moment on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before standing up. Her toes are immediately buried in the fluffy rug she picked especially for that purpose, and she enjoys the feeling for a beat.

The alarm’s almost painfully loud by the time she finally slides her finger across the screen to turn it off.

“I’m up, I’m up,” she mumbles as she heads into the bathroom, turning the shower on and twisting the knob as hot as it can go before pulling the t-shirt she slept in and her panties off and tossing them in the hamper. She twists her hair into a messy bun before stepping under the spray of water.

She’s feeling marginally more human by the time she leaves the bathroom, wrapped in her fuzzy robe. She gets the coffee going before going back into the bedroom to get dressed and then treats herself to two large mugs, which gets her all the way to properly awake.

She doesn’t have the time or energy to make breakfast, so when she’s done, she just refills Bastet’s food and water bowls and makes sure the litter box is clean before grabbing what she’ll need for the day and heads out. To her relief, Gregory’s is open, and she grabs a New Yorker sandwich and another coffee, promising herself it’s the last one until at least noon, before descending into the subway station.

The Transfer’s a standard job – _Eric Atkins, male, 85. COD: cardiovascular disease_ – with normal memories, and she’s knocking on Raven and Zeke’s door with fifteen minutes to spare before the start of the Thanksgiving parade.

“Hey, babe,” Raven greets her while Lola yips at their feet. “You look tired, rough night?”

Clarke shrugs, kicking her shoes off. “Slept fine, but I didn’t get to sleep until after one and then I had to get up way too early, so didn’t get my normal eight hours.”

Raven is already heading back to the kitchen, so Clarke follows her, ignoring Lola’s over-excited whines for cuddles.

“And what kept you up so late? It wasn’t even midnight when we hung up.”

Raven goes to check on something in one of the stainless steel, built in ovens and Clarke climbs onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

“I might have texted Bellamy after we hung up…” she starts, hurrying to continue when Raven throws her a smirk. “Just, you know, hey, let me know you get home OK, that’s completely normal. He was driving home in the middle of the night.”

“Sure,” Raven agrees, leaning against the bar across from Clarke, but there’s a slight teasing tone in her voice. Not that Clarke’s not used to that. She’s frequently on the receiving end of it and has gotten quite good at ignoring it by now.

“And then he replied when he got home, and we texted for a bit.”

“OK. So did you decide what to do about your little… crisis?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t a _crisis_ , just… I don’t know.”

“You called me in the middle of the night,” Raven says, eyebrows raised. “If it wasn’t a crisis, you would have waited until now to talk about it.”

“OK, fine. Maybe it was kind of a crisis,” Clarke admits. “Not a big one, but… fine. And no, I haven’t. But I might not have to.”

The timer on the other oven beeps, and Raven turns her back to take out a baking plate with steaming rolls. Yes, she makes them from scratch, because buying ready-made rolls just ‘isn’t Thanksgiving-y’ or something.

“How’d you reckon that?” she asks as she puts them down on the counter, covering them with a kitchen towel to let them cool slowly.

“He asked if I wanted to come to his place on Saturday, said he’d cook me dinner,” Clarke replies, another smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Raven gives a low whistle. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s like code for ‘want to get naked?’.”

“Right? I mean, he does have a roommate who might be home, but I’m going into this expecting sex.”

“Going into what expecting sex?” Zeke asks, coming into the kitchen. “Because I don’t remember putting that on our Thanksgiving invitations.”

Raven elbows him in the ribs when he tries to steal one of the rolls and he steps back, chuckling. “Those are for dinner! And not today, obviously. Bellamy’s making dinner for Clarke at his place on Saturday, I was just telling her that’s basically like asking her to come over for a booty call.”

“Definitely,” Zeke agrees. “Just a little more polite than coming out and actually saying it.”

“See?” Raven says with a smirk. “OK, come on, the parade’s about to start!”

“You know, considering the two of you have been in a monogamous relationship for the last few decades, I’m suspecting I have a better grasp on dating etiquette,” Clarke notes as she follows Raven into the living room. “Just saying.”

Raven huffs. “Please. When was the last time you went on an actual date and didn’t just go home with someone from a bar that you never saw again after the one night?”

Clarke actually has to think about that one, so Raven might have a point.

“Niylah,” she finally realizes. Raven doesn’t seem impressed, though.

“That was, like, ten years ago.”

Clarke frowns. “No way. It was while I was in LA, so no more than… OK, _maybe_ ten years.” Actually, it’s more than that, she left New York in 1999 last time and met Niylah four years into her placement in Los Angeles, and they dated the last few years they were both there, before Clarke left for Paris and Niylah for… Seattle, she thinks. That was in 2005.

“Face it, babe,” Raven says, grabbing the remote so she can turn the TV on and leaning forward on the couch. “Time flies. We’re getting old.”

Clarke can’t help but laugh. “Good thing we’re really not, then.”

“OK, shut up, it’s starting.”

Clarke squeezes her lips together to stop the laugh coming out and glances at Zeke. They both know that it won’t be long before Raven starts commenting the parade herself, but she demands complete silence as it begins.

Making sure that Raven’s focused on the TV, Clarke quickly holds up five fingers behind her back for Zeke, who’s sat down on Raven’s other side. His eyebrows furrow for a moment and then he’s holding up three fingers in return.

It’s two and a half minutes before Raven starts laughing at a float, and Clarke rolls her eyes at a smiling Zeke but makes a mental note to sneak him a five dollar bill when she can. It’s their own little Thanksgiving tradition.

As usual, the parade evolves into Clarke and Raven commenting on and laughing about everything from the balloons and floats to the people the camera zooms in on, Zeke staying mostly quiet but shaking his head amusedly at the two of them from time to time. He disappears into the kitchen now and then, to keep an eye on the food, but it seems like everything is under control.

It’s a little after ten when Clarke feels her phone vibrate in her pocket – Raven has a strict ‘no phones during the parade’ rule, so she’s turned off the sound – and she feels her heartrate pick up a little before she even knows who the text is from. Glancing at Raven, to make sure her friend is still engrossed in the parade on the TV, she subtly slides her phone out of her pocket and opens the message.

_Morning, Princess :-) enjoying the  
parade?_

She ignores Zeke’s raised eyebrows and turns away slightly to hide the phone from Raven as she replies.

**Morning :-) it’s great, of course!**

**Wait…**

**Are you trying to tell me  
you’re not watching it?**

**How very un-American of you!**

She watches the speech bubble as she waits for his reply.

_Didn’t feel like setting an alarm  
on my day off, just woke up. _

_Sounds like Miller’s got the TV on  
though, so I’ll go be very American   
in a moment ;-)_

Which means he’s still in bed… and that brings a whole bunch of images to Clarke’s mind. Rumpled sheets, messy bed-head, bare chest… or maybe he sleeps completely naked…

“What does Loverboy want?” Raven’s voice pulls her out of her musings, and Clarke gives her friend a guilty look.

“Just saying good morning,” she mumbles back, getting an eye roll in return.

“God, you two are nauseating, and you’re not even in the same room.”

She doesn’t, however, tell Clarke to put the phone away, which she takes as a good sign. She’s gotten another message in the meantime.

_Tell Raven and Zeke Happy  
Thanksgiving, by the way._

“He says Happy Thanksgiving,” she relates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Raven grumbles, eyes back on the TV.

“Tell him Happy Thanksgiving back,” Zeke says.

**Happy Thanksgiving back  
from them :-)**

**So what’s the plan on your end,  
heading out soon?**

There’s no immediate response, so she tucks the phone between her thigh and the couch, away from Raven’s immediate view. No need to be too obvious about it. When it buzzes again, a few minutes later, she surreptitiously pulls the phone out again.

_Probably not for a couple of  
hours at least._

_Miller’s trying to avoid having  
to help…_

Clarke manages to turn a laugh into a cough, but Raven still shoots her an annoyed look and she realizes it’s probably best to wrap things up.

**That’s horrible Thanksgiving spirit!**

**You should drag him out to the car…  
as soon as the parade’s over**

This time the reply comes almost immediately.

_I know, that’s my plan, shhh ;-)_

Again, she holds back a laugh, but she can tell she’s not very successful from Raven’s huff next to her.

“If you’re going to talk to him all day you should have just invited him,” she complains.

“Sorry,” Clarke apologizes. “I’ll stop.”

**I won’t tell a soul!**

**Raven’s giving me the evil eye…  
she has a strict no phones rule   
during the parade :-(**

_Uh-oh :-O I definitely don’t want  
get on Raven’s bad side… not   
a good starting point for this   
relationship._

Clarke feels the corners of her mouth turn up at the last word.

**Probably a good ground rule  
in general, to be honest ;-)**

_Noted ;-) enjoy the parade, and  
I’ll talk to you later, when the   
phone ban has been lifted?_

**Of course :-)**

Clarke can feel Raven’s eyes on her as she sends the last message and demonstratively holds up the phone when it’s gone through.

“Putting it away, see?” she says, making a show of putting the phone back in her pocket. Raven’s eyes narrow for a moment, but then she turns her attention back to the parade on the TV.

-100-

They watch the rest of the parade without incident, and soon after it’s over, the other Thanksgiving guests start joining them.

Harper and Monty are the first to arrive, bringing Harper’s famous pies. Clarke and Raven have been trying to get the recipe for her apple pie out of Harper for decades, but she still refuses to tell them more than the fact that she has a secret ingredient. Which of course doesn’t help one bit. The handful of times that Harper and Monty have spent Thanksgiving somewhere else since they started their little Friendsgiving tradition, Clarke and Raven (mostly Raven) have tried to replicate the recipe, but have yet to find that elusive secret ingredient. Last year, a frustrated Raven suggested that Harper must put a piece of her own soul in there… Clarke’s not convinced she’s wrong.

Jasper and Maya turn up fifteen minutes later, Jasper with a big bottle of what Clarke assumes – and fears – is his moonshine, which has somehow become tradition on the Thanksgiving table, and Maya clutching a large bowl with her amazing garlic mashed potatoes, covered with aluminum foil.

Last through the doors are Murphy and Emori – Clarke’s still not completely sure how Murphy ended up as a constant at these things, but he has been for the better part of fifty years. Emori’s the latest addition to their motley group, it’s only the third Thanksgiving since she and Murphy became a couple – another thing that Clarke’s not sure how it happened. Though she supposes it should be comforting – if anything, it proves that there really is someone out there for everyone.

“Hey, Griffin, heard you finally fell off the wagon and got a Norm boyfriend,” is Murphy’s greeting as he holds out a bottle of wine to Raven, probably picked up on the way and at Emori’s insistence.

“Hello to you too, Murphy,” Clarke replies with an eye roll, returning Emori’s hug. “And I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend, we’ve only been on one date.”

“Three,” Raven says, and Clarke frowns.

“How on earth do you get three? I could stretch to two, counting our brunch on Sunday, but not three.”

“Halloween.”

“OK, first off, that was a party,” Clarke objects. “Which we didn’t even go to together.”

“Oh, please, you were at the party for, like, an hour before he showed up and you both went MIA for the rest of the night,” Harper pipes in.

“Exactly,” Raven adds. “You spent almost four hours hidden away on the roof, just the two of you, ‘stargazing’.” She actually makes air quotes around the word. “I don’t care if it was technically at a party – that’s a date. Plus, you left together.”

“And that ended _so_ well,” Clarke grumbles, throwing Harper a look through narrowed eyes that she hopes relays how betrayed she feels at her friend taking Raven’s side – Harper is usually the person in their friend group who tries to stay on everyone’s good side and mediates in situations like this – but she only gets an unremorseful shrug in return.

“Why?” Murphy asks, pouring himself a glass from the wine bottle Zeke’s opened. “He couldn’t get it up?”

Raven elbows him in the side. “Clarke spotted his Number and bolted. Left him standing in the middle of the street – literally.”

“And he still came back?” Murphy’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s dedication. Or insanity. There’s a fine line between the two.”

“You’re missing the point, babe, as always,” Emori says mildly, shaking her head. “So he has a low Number?”

“268,” Raven says, and a collective wince goes through the room.

“Actually, 247 today,” Clarke corrects.

“Well, that sucks,” Murphy says, handing her the wine he just poured for himself.

Clarke wouldn’t say she knows Murphy very well, he’s sort of been a part of their little group for the past half century but she barely knows anything about his personal life. The way his mouth twists into a grimace makes her wonder if he might have personal experience on this matter, though.

“It really does,” she agrees, raising the glass to him in a silent toast before taking a sip. “I don’t suppose any of you have heard of someone being able to change a Number?”

The others glance at each other, the expressions on their faces telling her everything she needs to know.

“That’s not… you know it’s not possible,” Monty finally says, voice gentle.

Clarke sighs. “I know. I figured it couldn’t hurt to at least ask.” To her enormous relief, Maya hurries to change the subject and that’s the end of the Bellamy discussion, at least for the moment. She has no doubt they’ll circle around to it again before the day is over because, well, most of her friends are assholes. She loves them, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Now that there are more competent cooks in the kitchen, Clarke is happy to watch the action from the bar counter, sipping her wine.

As usual, Murphy questions everything Raven’s done and tries to ‘fix’ whatever he can get his hands on, until Raven physically kicks him out of the room. Maya and Harper join forces to finish the sweet potato pie, Emori starts whipping cream for the desert, Monty oversees the Brussel sprouts and green beans, and Jasper – who, if possible, is worse than Clarke when it comes to cooking – manages to burn a pot of mac and cheese. Luckily, Raven has extra, since Jasper always tries to make it and always ends up burning it, so soon enough, Zeke is ladling up a perfect batch of the pasta dish into a bowl.

Since nobody’s really paying her much attention, Clarke takes the opportunity to pull her phone out of her pocket again, sending off a text to Bellamy.

**Did you know that cooking  
can be a spectator sport?**

She doesn’t expect an immediate answer, it’s almost two in the afternoon so he and Miller and Jackson might very well be on their way to Miller’s parents, or already there. But he didn’t say anything about not being available, so…

She checks her job app, just to make sure nothing’s happened to the Transfers she has later in the evening, but everything’s still the same for both.

She’s about to open her Instagram when her phone buzzes with an incoming message, and she quickly switches to the message app, butterflies flopping a little in her stomach when Bellamy’s name fills the screen.

_Aw, poor Princess! Been benched?_

She rolls her eyes at his insistence of using that stupid nickname… even if it is a little cute.

**And I’m not even the only crappy  
cook here! Jasper burnt mac and  
cheese so bad just now he set  
off the fire alarm!**

_Please tell me there’s at least  
one person there who can actually  
cook? And someone watching  
the rest of you so you don’t burn  
down Raven’s amazing apartment…_

A laugh escapes her as she reads the message, and she quickly looks up, but nobody seems to have noticed.

**Relax, Mom ;-) Raven’s a great  
cook and Zeke’s pretty good**

**I’m almost positive Murphy’s secretly  
a gourmet chef too, though I’ve  
never been able to prove it…**

**It’s really just me and Jasper who  
need supervision**

_That’s a relief!_

_So you’re allowed outside  
communication now ;-)_

At the reminder, Clarke glances at Raven, who’s busy checking on the turkey. There’s no spoken rule about no phones during the cooking and eating part of the day – not that there really is during the parade, either – but she’d still rather not get caught.

**Technically, yes**

**Though I don’t want to face the  
Spanish inquisition over turkey,   
so I’m keeping you on the   
down low ;-)**

_So I’m your dirty little secret?_

“Hey Clarkey!”

Jasper’s loud voice makes Clarke look up just as he literally jumps onto the bar stool next to her. It sways for a moment, but then he grabs onto the counter to keep it from toppling over.

“Did you already start on the moonshine, Jas?” she asks amusedly, putting her phone down on the counter.

He waves his hand in the air in what is probably, in his mind, some sort of explanation. “Just a tiiiiny bit. But this is not about me. How are _you_?”

“I’m fine, Jas,” she assures him. “Just enjoying spending the holidays with my best friends.”

“Aw, you’re my best friend too!” He frowns. “After Monty. And Maya. You’re definitely one of my best… est friends. For sure. Like, top ten, easily.”

“Good to know, Jasper.” She catches Raven’s eye across the kitchen, nodding discretely at Jasper. Raven picks up on her meaning and pops a pod in the coffee maker next to the stove. “How about we get you some coffee, huh? Get you sobered up before dinner.”

Jasper frowns adorably. “I didn’t drink _that_ much.”

He probably didn’t. “I know, but your moonshine’s way too strong, you know that.”

He really should know better by now, but in a way, Jasper getting a little drunk as they wait for Thanksgiving dinner has become a tradition.

Raven puts a steaming mug of coffee down on the counter before returning to the oven, and Clarke nudges it closer to Jasper. “Come on, drink up.”

He obediently drinks some of the hot liquid.

“So how is the new boyfriend?” he then asks. “Why didn’t you invite him to this thing? You should have invited him! We want to meet him!”

She doesn’t even bother trying to correct him on the whole boyfriend thing, she knows there’s no point. It might even hurt her case – Jasper is a firm believer in the theory of ‘the lady doth protest too much’. “We had our first official date last night, I think it’s a little soon to officially introduce him to all of you lunatics. And you already did meet him, at Halloween, remember?”

Her phone buzzes as she speaks and she turns it over to read the message.

_That might be fun, actually…  
all cloak and dagger, sneaking  
around… kind of hot ;-)_

“Is that him? Hey, guys, Clarke’s texting with her new boo!”

“Jasper, for the love of all that is holy – never use that word again,” she says absentmindedly as she types out her answer.

**Sorry, Jasper caught us! The cat’s  
out of the bag… not sure it was   
ever in it, but you know what   
I mean**

“Yeah, Jasper, don’t try to be hip, it doesn’t work anyway,” Murphy pipes in from the doorway to the hall. “And you’re wasting a perfectly good opportunity to snoop and see what they’re talking about.”

Jasper eagerly leans towards her at that, but Clarke pulls the phone away from him and gives him her best stern look. He immediately shrinks back.

“Sorry, bro, I’m way more scared of her than I am of you,” he says and Clarke awards him with a smile.

“Good choice.”

_And here I was looking forward to  
slipping in through your window  
in the middle of the night…_

_A little disappointed, I have to say._

She can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up in her throat, and Jasper gives her a look with raised eyebrows.

**Tell you what – if you manage to  
climb the building, you can still  
sneak in through my window ;-)**

When she looks up from her phone, everyone in the kitchen are watching her.

“What?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious with all the attention on her.

Raven shrugs before turning back to the oven. “It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that,” she says in a deliberately off-hand voice.

Clarke rolls her eyes before focusing on her phone again. “Yeah, yeah.”

_Hmm, didn’t think about that part…  
possibly not the best idea I’ve  
ever had._

_OK, we’re here, think I have to  
go be social for a while :-/_

**Oh, no, you mean like actually  
talk to people?**

_I know, crazy concept, right? You  
should try it too ;-)_

**I don’t know… these people look  
kind of weird…**

_:-D Need new friends?_

**Pretty sure I’m stuck with these  
losers by now…**

**OK, go be social, I’ll survive…**

_If you insist… OK, tell everyone I  
know hi._

_Talk to you later :-*_

It’s silly that three little symbols arranged in a specific way to indicate pouting lips can make her stomach swoop and her heart stutter, but they do.

“Ooh, they’ve advanced to kissy emojis.” Jasper’s voice pulls Clarke out of her musings and she finds him leaning in close, reading the messages on her phone. She immediately turns it over to hide the screen.

“Hey! I thought you were scared of me?” she says, pushing him away from her, but grabbing onto his arm as the movement makes him stumble off the stool and onto the floor.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But I’m also too curious for my own good.”

“He really is,” Maya agrees, crossing the kitchen while she wipes her hands on a towel. “Leave her alone, Jasper.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he says, giving an exaggerated bow and kissing Maya’s hand. She giggles and blushes, and Clarke is reminded of why they’re some of her favorite people – despite having been together for almost three decades, they still act like teenagers with a first crush sometimes.

“God, you’re corny,” Clarke says with a laugh. “Stay away from my phone!”

She turns it back over and sends two more messages.

**Will do :-)**

**Have fun and talk to you later :-***

She hesitates for a moment before hitting send on the second one – what if he didn’t mean to send a kiss emoji? But so what, she decides, resolutely hitting the send button and then putting the phone back in her pocket. Even if he didn’t, she can do it first. It’s the twenty-first century, damn it!

“OK, people!” Raven claps her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “The turkey is coming out of the oven. Everyone knows their task – get the table set and everything out there. Go!”

They’ve done this so many times by now it’s like a well-oiled machine – everyone grabs something from the kitchen cupboards or counter and practically march into the large living room, where there’s a huge table seating twelve. This year, there’s just nine of them, but they have had to add extra chairs a few times over the years.

It takes a couple of rounds to the kitchen, but soon everyone’s seated around the table and Zeke is carving the turkey.

It might be a cliché, but Clarke doesn’t really care – when it’s her turn to say what she’s grateful for this year, it has to be her friends.


	9. And All I Can Taste Is This Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post, guys - I was on holiday last weekend, and when I got home I had so much to do I only now came up for air, basically! Thanks as always to everyone who read, commented or favorited the last chapter :) And a big thanks to my beta Liz
> 
> I don't own anything relating to The 100, I just like playing around with the characters :P
> 
> Chapter title from “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls

Black Friday dawns grey and wet, the mist rising over the East River in swirls of silvery white. Since Clarke has the whole day off, she doesn’t immediately get up, instead just ventures out to the kitchen to make some coffee and a few slices of toast that she takes back to the bedroom.

Bastet is stretched out at the foot of the bed, blinking at her sleepily when she crawls back under the covers. She brings the mug to her lips and takes a long sip of the wonderful, hot beverage before caving and picking up her phone.

She and Bellamy texted on and off during the afternoon yesterday, and then some more when both of them got home in the evening, somehow ending up in a discussion about _Brooklyn 99_ that lasted hours. Time really got away from both of them, and when they finally said goodnight, it was after one in the morning. She knows that Bellamy started work at eight today, so she hopes he managed to get some sleep and isn’t too tired.

She’s starting to get used to the swooping feeling in her stomach when there are messages waiting for her when she unlocks her phone.

_Good morning Princess :-)_

_Getting up today was no fun,  
hope your day’s off to a better  
start than mine – thank God for  
coffee!_

_Though talking to you was worth it ;-)_

_Enjoy the day off and I’ll talk to  
you later :-*_

She lets the ending emoji warm her along with the coffee, and sends off a couple of replies before moving onto her toast.

**Good morning :-)**

**Just woke up to your messages,  
so my day’s starting great ;-)**

**Hope you got at least some sleep,  
sorry for keeping you up so late…**

**Have a good day at work :-***

She puts the phone away and focuses on her breakfast, absentmindedly watching the rain that’s started pouring down on the other side of the windows as she chews. Bas comes closer, stretching out on her back asking for a belly rub, her body bent in a way that should be impossible, and Clarke happily obliges. Purring soon fills the air, the perfect soundtrack to a lazy morning in bed.

She’s just swallowing the last bite of toast when her phone buzzes, and she quickly grabs it from the nightstand.

She’d like to say that the smile spreading on her face in anticipation doesn’t fall slightly when she sees Wells’ name on the screen, but that would be lying.

Not that Wells has to know that, of course. She opens the message.

_Skype?_

They try to Skype once a week, but it’s been over a month now because Wells and his girlfriend Sasha have been traveling. They’ve still talked a few times, but it’s not the same as actually seeing each other, even if it is just through a computer screen.

**Give me 10**

She pulls on a pair of sweats and a comfy sweater, finger combs her hair – Wells has seen her looking way worse, so it’s not like she needs to put in much effort – and then starts up the computer before going into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she’s done, the machine has finished booting up and she clicks on the little blue logo with the white S to open the program.

She knows Wells is sitting at his computer, waiting for the ten minutes to pass, so she clicks on his profile and then the little camera to call him instead.

It only takes a moment before the screen changes to an image of Wells in front of the window behind his desk, the grey sky in London mirroring the one in New York.

_“Hey there, Griffin,”_ he greets her with a smile.

“Hi Wells,” she replies, her smile matching his. “How was China?”

His eyes shift from the camera to something behind the computer, and then Sasha pops into view. _“Hi Clarke! How are you?”_

“I’m great, Sash, you? I was just asking Wells about China.”

_“China was amazing, I can’t believe it took me almost sixty years to finally get there!”_ Sasha gushes. _“Wells can tell you about that, though, so I’ll leave you to it. But hey – you should take some time off soon, come visit, yeah?”_

“That sounds wonderful, I could use a break.”

She probably could, she hasn’t had more than two consecutive days off since June. And she hasn’t seen Wells and Sasha since early spring, when she spent two weeks at their place. But she knows that – unless Bellamy has a change of heart and decides he doesn’t want to see her anymore – she won’t be going anywhere in the next eight months or so. She’s planning on spending all the time she can with him before it’s too late.

The thought brings a lump to her throat and she swallows hard, trying to push the sudden wave of sadness away.

_“What’s wrong?”_

Wells clearly knows her too well if he can pick up on her slight change of mood over a pixelated Skype connection.

“Nothing,” she assures him, forcing a smile back on her face. “So tell me more about China.”

He gives her a long, scrutinizing look but eventually obliges, giving her a detailed description of everything he and Sasha did while they were in China. Clarke’s quite frankly impressed that they had time to squeeze so much in during just a month, especially since it seems like they’ve seen every corner of the country, from Beijing and the Great Wall in the north to Hong Kong in the south and Lhasa with its amazing palace in the west.

“God, that sounds amazing,” she sighs when Wells finally finishes. “It’s been way too long since I did a trip like that…”

_“So why don’t you?”_

Clarke sighs. “It takes some planning, Wells, you know that. I can’t just up and leave.”

_“Right. So this doesn’t have anything to do with the boyfriend I had to learn about from Jasper?”_

Damn it, Jasper. She should have known that he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut.

“You mean the boyfriend I specifically told Jasper _isn’t_ my boyfriend? And when did you have time to talk to Jasper, I thought you got back last night?”

Wells laughs. _“That one, yeah. And we did, I had a snap waiting for me when I turned my phone on after getting off the plane.”_

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “Since when do you use Snapchat?”

He shrugs in response, grabbing his phone from the desk next to the computer and tapping the screen as he speaks. _“I don’t really use it much, but I do check the snaps people send me, and apparently, you made heart eyes at your phone as soon as it beeped all day yesterday.”_

“I did not!”

Wells just holds up his phone so she can see the screen, where there’s a photo of herself looking down at her phone with, OK, a slightly mushy expression on her face. Jasper’s used some animation that makes stars rain over her and captioned it ‘Clarkey’s in loooooove’ followed by a bunch of hearts.

_“So you want to try another explanation for not wanting to go travelling?”_

For a moment, she considers trying to brush it off. But this is Wells – he might be the only person in the world who knows her almost as well as, or maybe even better than, Raven does. There’s no way she can fool him, even long distance.

“I mean, yeah,” she finally admits. “I’m not really interested in going off on a month long adventure right now, and it probably does have a lot to do with Bellamy.”

Wells eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head slowly. _“Leave it to you to rule out Norms for a century and a half, and when you finally give one a chance, he’s dying in a few months.”_

Clarke balls up a post it note and throws it at the screen, making Wells laugh.

“It’s not like I planned it, you know,” she grumbles. “He just… I don’t know, there was something there right from the start, something I’ve never really felt before.” She winces as she realizes what she just said to her ex-boyfriend. “Sorry!”

_“Don’t worry about it,”_ he brushes off with a wave of his hand. _“I was there, I know we didn’t have a love-at-first-sight thing. I wore you down!”_

She ignores the little jab. “I figured I’d never see him again, but then he somehow ended up at Raven’s Halloween party, which was when I saw his Number for the first time… I tried to keep my distance after that, but obviously I suck at it. And now here I am, falling for someone I know will be gone by this time next year.”

It actually feels good to say it, to get the words out there. Like a weight has been lifted off her chest, letting her breathe more freely.

_“And still you’re not considering running,”_ Wells notes, almost conversationally.

Clarke shrugs. “Raven says I’m already in too deep. And she’s right. I can’t… I know it’ll probably be so much worse when the time comes, but just thinking about never seeing him again when I could, at least for a while… I’m not that strong.”

_“I think you’ve got that backwards,”_ he says gently. _“It takes someone very strong to go into a situation like this with their eyes wide open, knowing what’s coming.”_

“Sometimes I forget,” she mumbles, looking away from the screen and down at her hands. “We were texting all evening yesterday and I just… I didn’t even think about it once. But just now, when Sasha mentioned me coming to visit, it hit me all over again.”

_“And you’ve talked to Raven about this, obviously?”_ Wells asks.

Clarke understands why he thinks it’s obvious, and it is – Wells has had a few relationships with Norms over the decades too, but never any longer than a few years, and he’s never gotten to a point where he’s told a Norm partner about his ‘line of work’. As far as Clarke knows, Raven’s the only one of her friends and acquaintances who has had a long term relationship with a Norm that didn’t end until death.

“I have, not that she’s much help. She just said it was worth it in the end, which… OK, but they had over forty _years_ , you know?”

Wells mouth turns up in what looks more like a grimace than a smile. _“Yeah, I don’t know what to add to that, to be honest. But something tells me it wouldn’t matter if I had the most compelling argument for ending this thing now, before you get seriously hurt. Am I right?”_

“Yup.”

_“Then all I am going to say is this – I am always here when you need me.”_

She wishes that Skype would have invented virtual hugs, because she wants one right about now. Or maybe teleporting, that would be useful. Just pop over to London for a few minutes, get some much needed physical contact, and pop back.

“I know. Knowing that you and Raven will be there is… it’s everything.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He fixes her with an unimpressed look. “Now, let’s move on to the fact that I had to hear about this from _Jasper_.”

Clarke holds her hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. “Hey, it’s not my fault you have crappy timing! What’s the longest conversation we’ve had in the last month, five minutes? And it was all you going on about ‘oh, this and this is so amazing, you wouldn’t believe… got to go, we’re on our way to so and so!’. Excuse me for not being able to get a word in edgeways.”

This is completely true, even if she has to admit that she hasn’t tried very hard to tell him.

Wells just laughs. “Fine, you’re off the hook.”

To Clarke’s relief, he then changes the subject and they spend another hour or so talking about everything from Wells’ job at an animal shelter (he’s the reason Clarke ended up with Bastet in the first place, as a kitten she was found abandoned in a garbage bag along with her siblings and brought to the shelter he volunteered at in Chicago before he left for the UK) to Clarke and Raven’s Thanksgiving celebration yesterday. Wells usually says that it’s one of few things he misses about the US – Thanksgiving. Especially the food. He makes her describe every dish in detail while he stares dreamily somewhere off screen.

“Careful, you’ve got a little drool right there,” Clarke tells him amusedly when she’s finally done.

Wells rolls his eyes. _“Funny, Griffin. OK, I have to go, I have a Transfer in a bit. Just jumping right back into the day-to-day life.”_

“OK. But don’t think that you’re getting out of our Skype sessions now that you’re back in good ole’ England. I expect you to follow our regular schedule from now on!”

_“Of course,”_ he laughs. _“Same-ish time next week, scout’s honor.”_

“Like you were ever a boy scout.”

_“But I did volunteer at that summer camp once, remember?”_

“Yeah, yeah. OK, go, talk to you later.”

_“Of course.”_ He hesitates for a moment. _“And I’m here, whenever, OK?”_

She’s managed to push the previous rush of feelings off during their talk, but now she feels a small lump in her throat again. “I know.”

Wells nods once, as if in confirmation. _“OK. Love you.”_

“Love you too. Bye.”

He gives a sort of half-wave, and then the screen goes dark.

Clarke spends the rest of the day painting. She has two commissions waiting, and makes quick work of the first one – an oil painting based on an adorable but pretty boring photo of a schnauzer with a bow tie. It’s a new client who, apart from the photo, has sent detailed instructions on color choices and a whole bunch of other stuff. Her least favorite type of client, really, but she still enjoys the actual painting process.

The second commission is more up her alley – it’s a client that has bought a couple of paintings from her before, all for his wife, and this one’s a Christmas present for her. All he’s sent is a few photos of the room where it’s meant to go and the measurements. Clarke sits for a moment, just looking at the canvas, now and then letting her gaze drift through the windows behind it where the sun has finally decided to make an appearance and is reflecting off the glass buildings across the water.

Eventually, she picks up the brush and makes one bold stroke across the canvass, pausing to get a feel for it before making another, and another.

Normally, she gets completely engrossed in her painting, and it’s not unusual that a call or text or Bastet pulls her out of it hours later, making her realize that she hasn’t eaten since breakfast. Today, though, she takes regular breaks when her phone buzzes with a new message from Bellamy.

He starts sending her photos of funny things he comes across while working – a grumpy looking cat giving him death glares through a window, a guy wearing a minion outfit riding a unicycle at Times Square, a bunch of corgis with Santa hats. In return, she sends him updates on her progress, getting encouraging replies or questions back.

The heavy feeling in her chest and stomach that the conversation with Wells left her with slowly lifts as the hours pass, in favor of the warmth that she’s started to connect with Bellamy. In the early afternoon, he asks what she’s had for lunch, and when she admits that she hasn’t eaten yet, he keeps sending messages that only consists of _FOOD_ , each time followed by more exclamation points, every thirty seconds until she sends a photo of herself taking a bite of meatloaf with roasted potatoes (so what if it came in a box and was microwaved?).

She finally wraps up the painting a little after eight in the evening. She hasn’t gotten a message in a while, since Bellamy has a class from seven to eight thirty, and she tries to not glance at the too quiet phone. And fails miserably, of course. She calls in an order for Chinese food before taking a hot shower, scrubbing away all the paint that didn’t end up on the canvas.

When her phone buzzes again, a few minutes before nine, she’s just put the steaming containers of food down on the coffee table and is flipping through Netflix to find something to watch.

_Finally home._

_How are you?_

It’s almost like they haven’t texted all day and he doesn’t know pretty much everything she’s been up to. It’s only been a little over two hours since his last message.

**Well, nothing major’s happened  
in the last two hours :-P**

**Just got my dinner, trying to  
decide what to watch… what   
goes best with Moo Shu chicken,   
egg rolls and Chow Mein?**

The speech bubble pops up immediately, but the answer takes a bit.

_Well, that depends on what you’re  
looking for. I would recommend an  
earthy drama with a hint of berries,  
or maybe a fruity comedy with  
creamy undertones._

Clarke lets out a laugh at the ridiculous descriptions.

**I didn’t know you were such a  
connoisseur ;-)**

_There’s a lot you don’t know  
about me yet, Princess :-P_

That’s the downside of texting – the lack of context, body language. Still, she doesn’t think she’s imagining the flirty undertone.

**Oh, really?**

_Most definitely._

_Want to find out?_

More than anything. She wants to know every single little thing there is to know about him, wants him to know everything about her… _really_ , everything. Which might be a problem…

She doesn’t say that, of course.

**I thought that was the point of  
this whole dating thing ;-)**

_Oh, so that’s what it’s about?_

_Seriously though, what are you_  
in the mood for? I’ll put on the  
same, we can live text.

So they do. They end up watching some new sci-fi movie about an apocalyptic future, complaining to each other about plot holes and things that don’t make sense.

It’s one of the best dates Clarke’s ever been on, and they’re not even in the same place.

-100-

The Uber drops Clarke off at the intersection of two streets in the heart of Forest Hills, brick apartment buildings stretching in all four directions. She quickly checks Google Maps and determines that her goal is the building to her left, so she crosses the street and stops in front of the door. There are names with buttons to the left, no Blake on there but she quickly finds Miller on the fifth floor.

_“Hello?”_

She leans towards the little speaker thing.

“Hey, it’s me.”

_“Hey, come on up.”_

The door buzzes and she pushes it open, stepping into the lobby. The elevator’s waiting for her, and when she gets to the fifth floor, she immediately spots Bellamy leaning out through an open door at the end of a short corridor. A smile spreads on his face when he sees her.

“Hey, you found it,” he says, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let her in.

“Yes, there’s this little thing called satnav these days,” she teases, moving past him and into a long and narrow hallway. There’s a small side table just inside the door, and she puts down the two wine bottles she brought on it. “You should try it.”

He closes the door behind her and she toes her boots off before unbuttoning her coat.

“I don’t trust all this newfangled technology,” he retorts. “Didn’t you read about that guy who ended up in a lake because he followed the directions from his satnav?”

He holds out his hand for her coat, and she hands it over.

“Well, that’s the thing about satnav,” she notes. “Must be paired with common sense.”

He chuckles a little at that, hanging her coat up before turning to face her again. “Well, that rules out most people, then.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she agrees, suddenly feeling almost shy under his intense gaze. “Hi.”

His smile turns into a more serious expression and he reaches for her hand, running his thumb across her palm, causing goosebumps to erupt all along her arm. “Hey.”

Their eyes stay locked for a long second, before his drop down to her lips. Clarke takes a small step closer and their breaths mingle for a moment before he leans down to close the last of the distance between them.

She meets him halfway, rising up on her tiptoes to reach better, and feels his hand slide around her waist to her back, pressing her closer.

The kiss is far from as chaste as their goodnight kiss on Wednesday, but not quite as heated as their first one. All too soon, Bellamy pulls away from her, clearing his throat as he takes a step back.

“The food,” he says, voice sounding almost a little guilty, gesturing behind him. “Don’t want to burn it.”

Clarke shakes her head a little, to clear the fog from her brain. “Right. See, I must _really_ suck at cooking, it’s even rubbing off on you.”

He lets out a relieved laugh at that and then tugs on her hand, grabbing one of the wine bottles while she takes the other. “Come on.”

He leads her down the hallway, passing three doors on their right. The first door is closed, but the second one is slightly ajar and Clarke catches a glimpse of white and grey tile. The last door is almost completely open, revealing half of a tidy room. The wall that’s shared with the bathroom is covered with bookcases and under the window across from the door there’s a desk with a laptop that looks like it’s seen better days and a couple of open books. Through the crack between the door and the jamb, she thinks she catches sight of a bed made with a dark blue bedspread.

“Miller’s bedroom, bathroom in the middle, and my bedroom,” Bellamy narrates. “The kitchen’s up here on the left, and the living room down at the end of the hallway.”

It’s obvious that the apartment is old – none of the open plan living areas that are a constant in modern buildings – but it’s also clear that someone’s done work on it in the last few years. The floors are hardwood, or very nice laminate, not a carpet in sight, and all the walls are painted some shade of white or grey.

The living room, which she peaks into before following Bellamy into the kitchen, isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for a comfy-looking L-shaped couch and a recliner facing a big-screen TV. There’s even some art on the walls, which is something she always looks for – force of habit.

The kitchen’s a decent size, split down the middle by a breakfast bar with a couple of stools. The cooking area’s on one side – basic, white cabinets that have been spruced up with modern, stainless-steel knobs and somewhat dated but still obviously functioning appliances – and a small dining table on the other, currently set with a nice, white tablecloth, plates, cutlery and glasses, and two candles in the middle, not yet lit. Bellamy takes the wine from her and puts both bottles next to them, and she’s almost sure she catches a faint blush on his cheeks as he spots her looking at the table. He quickly turns away and rounds the counter, though, stopping in front of the stove, where there are two pots bubbling.

“Do you need help with anything?” Clarke asks, more because it’s the polite thing to do than anything else, leaning against the counter.

He gives her an amused look before lifting the lid off one of the pots. An amazing aroma immediately fills the room. “No offense, but I think it’s best if you stay right where you are,” he replies, tasting whatever’s in the pot. He’s apparently happy with what he finds, because he puts the lid back on and turns the knob to lower the heat.

“I should be offended by that,” she says, climbing onto one of the bar stools as gracefully as she can in her tight, faux-leather leggings. “But I’m used to it by now.”

Bellamy chuckles and opens a cupboard where he finds two large bowls that he places on the counter, before taking the other pot off the stove and transferring its contents – rice – into one of them.

“You look amazing, by the way,” he notes after he’s put the pot into the sink and poured water into it. “I should have said that right away, but you…”

“Distracted you with my wonderful sense of humor,” Clarke finishes the sentence for him, getting another laugh in return. “Thanks. You clean up nice too.”

Nice might be an understatement – he clearly knows what works for him, if the grey-blue button down, rolled up to his elbows, and dark wash jeans are any indication. The top two buttons on the shirt are undone, giving her a peak at smooth, bronzed skin that makes her throat a little dry. She quickly averts her eyes, before he catches her.

“Thanks, I think,” he replies drily. “What’s with the two bottles of wine, by the way? Trying to get me drunk, Princess?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Would two bottles be enough if I were?”

He tilts his head to the side, watching her for a moment, eyes darkening slightly. “Maybe not, but it’s a good start.”

Clarke feels a tug low in her belly and decides that a change of topic is probably a good idea. He seems to have some sort of hang-up about the food not burning, after all, so the scene that just played out in her mind, of sweeping everything off the counter and pulling him down on top of her, will probably have to wait.

“Good to know. Honestly, I just wasn’t sure what you liked, or what would go best with the food, so I got one bottle of red and one of white.”

He nods and turns back to the stove. “I’ve never been good at the whole food/wine pairing, but either’s fine with me.”

Silence fills the room for a moment, but not a tense silence, more the type of silence that Clarke’s used to from spending time with Raven or Wells, a comfortable silence.

“So, no Miller tonight?” she asks after a while. She figures if she’s going to jump him in the living room later – which is looking like a distinct possibility – it’ll be good to know if she needs to worry about the roommate walking in right in the middle.

“He and Jackson both managed to get yesterday off, actually, so they’re visiting Jackson’s parents on the west coast,” Bellamy tells her, turning the stove off and using some tongs to move the chicken pieces to the second bowl before pouring the rest of the content in the pot over them. “It’s the first time Miller’s meeting them, he was really nervous when I drove them to the airport yesterday morning.”

“Yeah, first time meeting the parents, never fun,” she notes, though she actually has no experience with it. Every romantic drama she’s ever watched, though, tells her that the first time meeting possible future in-laws is a big deal that’s almost always preceded by a lot of nerves and often involves very awkward conversations where the main character does their best to get on the parents’ good side.

She wonders if the trip was a last minute thing, or if Bellamy knew he’d have the apartment to himself when he invited her over… she hopes it’s the second one.

“Exactly,” he agrees. “One bonus of not having any left, I guess.”

Clarke snorts. “Ouch, that was dark.”

He pauses, hands reaching for the two bowls, and catches her eyes. “Too dark?”

“I’ve been told my humor can go pretty dark at times,” she replies with a shrug. “Actually, morbid is the word Zeke sometimes uses when Raven and I get going, so you really don’t need to worry about offending me.”

“Good,” he says, grabbing both bowls. “Right, I think this is all done, let’s eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know - when will she get to the good stuff already?! More date coming up in the next chapter, I promise - interpret that as you will ;)


	10. And All I Can Breathe Is Your Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving on with the next chapter, hope you guys like it! Slightly longer than the previous ones, but I hope you don't mind ;) As always, I don’t own anything relating to The 100, and a big thanks to my beta Liz :)  
> Chapter title from “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls, same as the last one, since I feel like they’re sort of one long chapter split in two  
> Please see the end of the chapter for warnings!

Clarke watches as Bellamy brings the food over to the table, before going back around the kitchen counter and returning with two ladles and a corkscrew.

“You open the wine, I’ll light the candles?” she asks, and he nods. “Do you have matches or a lighter?”

He opens a drawer in the counter and rummages around among bits of string, keys and rubber bands for a moment before producing a box of matches, which he hands her.

“Want to start with red or white?” he asks as she strikes a match and holds it to the wick of the first candle.

“Hmm… I want to say that there’s some rule about white wine with white meat, but I honestly have no idea,” she replies, moving the match to the second candle. “Let’s go with white.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, stripping the foil off the cork. “And I was going to make hot fudge chocolate pudding cake for dessert, red probably works better with that than white.”

“I’m sorry, hot fudge chocolate pudding cake?” Clarke asks, feeling her mouth watering at the mere thought.

“Yeah,” he replies, pulling out one of the chairs for her. “I wasn’t sure what to do, but then I remembered your motto about chocolate.”

“That sounds absolutely heavenly,” she says as Bellamy rounds the table and sits down across from her.

“I’ve never made it before, so I make no promises,” he warns her. “It could end up a complete disaster. But it looked great, so hopefully it’ll taste just as good.”

“I’m sure it will.”

“Go ahead,” he says, nodding at the food. “Ladies first. Or guests first, whichever one you prefer.”

The chicken is cooked to perfection, and the spice that the sauce brings to the dish really complements it. They eat for a moment in silence, but then Clarke feels his eyes on her and looks up.

“So?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“This is amazing,” she assures him after swallowing down the mouthful she’d just taken. “Seriously, I’ve had chicken in restaurants that didn’t taste half as good as this.”

“Good,” he says, looking relieved. “And it’s not too spicy? I mean, I did say that I put jalapeños in it when we were talking about it the other day, and you didn’t say anything about it at the time, and I didn’t think that you might not want it too spicy until after I had added them, so…”

She can’t help but smile at his rambling and lets him continue until he trails off. “I love spicy food, don’t worry. It’s perfect.”

“OK, good.”

They keep talking food as they eat, discussing their favorite cuisines – Clarke is currently on a Mongolian spree, though she also has a soft spot for Mexican, while Bellamy has only recently discovered an Indonesian restaurant close by and swears by their _soto padang_ soup.

By the time Clarke spears the last bit of chicken on her fork and pops it in her mouth, the wine is gone and she’s so full she’s seriously starting to regret her choice of leggings.

“Oh my God, I can’t get one more bite down,” she announces, dropping the fork and leaning back in her chair.

Bellamy chuckles. “So should we just skip the dessert, or…?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “There’s always room for chocolate.”

He shakes his head, amused. “My sister used to say that about ice cream, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard it about chocolate before.”

“Oh, it totally applies to chocolate too,” she confirms, pushing her chair back and grabbing her now empty plate. “Any desserts or snacks, really.”

“Hey, no, I’ve got it,” Bellamy says, immediately jumping to his feet and taking the plate from her.

“I might not be good at cooking, but I can still carry dishes from the table,” she replies drily. “It’s not like vampires and churches or something, I don’t bounce off an invisible barrier when I get within five feet of a stove.”

“No, it’s not that, I just… you really don’t have to help, I’m just putting everything in the dishwasher.”

“And if I help, it’ll be faster, and there will be chocolate sooner,” Clarke reasons, picking up the rice bowl while he places their plates on the kitchen counter.

He considers her for a moment. “OK, fine, I’ll start loading the dishwasher, you grab the rest.”

“Thank you.”

It only takes one more round, since it’s just the bowl with the chicken left, and within a minute, Bellamy’s closing the dishwasher and moving to the stove again.

“It shouldn’t take long to whip this up, why don’t you go in the living room and find something on Netflix for us to watch while I do this?” he suggests, leaning down to extract a plastic mixing bowl from a cupboard. “It’s supposed to go in the oven for about half an hour, so it’ll be a little while.”

“Or I could keep you company,” she retorts, climbing onto the same stool she occupied before they ate. When he gives her a suspicious look, she raises her hands. “I promise I’ll stay on this side of the counter.”

“OK, fine,” he surrenders, turning to open a cupboard that apparently works as a pantry. He finds the ingredients he needs and puts them down on the counter before pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking the screen. “I downloaded the recipe,” he explains.

It’s nice to watch him work, he’s obviously very at home in the kitchen and never hesitates about where something is. Before long, he’s sliding the pan into the oven and closing it before straightening up.

“Right, now we just have to wait for 35 minutes or so and it should be done.”

“Enough time for another glass of wine and maybe agreeing on something to watch,” Clarke concludes, sliding down from the stool.

She’s only had three glasses of wine, which isn’t that much considering how much she’s eaten, and she doesn’t feel drunk in any way, but she still stumbles when her feet hit the floor, her hand going out to grab the counter. Instead, Bellamy’s hand closes around her wrist, holding her steady.

“You OK?”

When she looks up to respond, she finds that he’s much closer than she thought, just inches away, and for a moment, as their eyes lock, all words elude her.

She can tell that he’s having the same kind of reaction she is, his pupils dilating and his lips falling apart slightly. But he releases her and takes a step back, so she clears her throat.

“Fine. But maybe just one more glass of wine for me, or I’ll be the one getting drunk,” she half-jokes.

“We wouldn’t want that,” he says, placing one hand on the small of her back to usher her out of the room. “Grab the glasses, I’ve got the bottle and corkscrew.”

She obediently brings the two glasses with her into the living room, where she puts them down on the coffee table. Bellamy opens the bottle of red and pours some in both glasses, though barely filling them to a third. She decides to really take it easy on the wine from now on, because she has a sneaking suspicion that he’ll be afraid of taking advantage of her if he thinks she’s too drunk, and she really doesn’t want that.

He puts his phone on the table as well, and she sees that he has the timer counting down for the cake in the oven, before sitting down next to her on the couch, not quite as close as she would have liked, but they can work on that.

“Anything you feel like watching?” he asks as he turns the TV on and starts up Netflix.

“Anything but sci-fi,” Clarke replies. “Had enough of that last night.”

He chuckles a little at that and hands her the remote. “Pick something.”

She flips down the page aimlessly, stopping when she gets to a recent thriller that she’s been meaning to check out. “Have you seen this?”

When he shakes his head, she hits play and leans back on the couch, putting the remote down between them.

She has some trouble focusing on the screen, Bellamy’s presence just a few inches away from her extremely distracting. Every time he moves, she catches herself glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, and for the first time since they met, really, the room is charged with an almost tense energy.

Clarke’s done her share of dating, sure. But with her longer term partners, the relationships have always grown out of friendship, and even the Norms she’s had more than a one-time thing with in the past have usually started as hook ups and then evolved into dating or some sort of arrangement involving sex.

She’s never actually been on a date like this before, where she’s not sure where things are going, not totally comfortable sliding closer and leaning her head on her date’s shoulder.

She’s not completely convinced she likes it.

Right, she needs to get her nerves under control.

“Can I use the bathroom?” she asks, turning from the screen to face Bellamy.

“Of course.” He hits pause on the movie. “It’s… well, you saw where it is earlier. There are clean towels on the shelf above the toilet.”

“Got it,” she says with a smile as she gets up. “Be right back.”

Once she’s closed the bathroom door behind her, she leans against the wood and takes a deep breath.

The bathroom’s nice and, more importantly, spotless. To her right is a large, walk-in shower – she would guess there used to be a bathtub at some point, possibly removed once Miller’s grandfather got older, for easier access – straight ahead is a toilet with a shelf above it with a bunch of the promised clean and fluffy towels, and to her left is a vanity, built into an alcove in the wall. She turns the tap on cold, letting the water run for a moment as she scrutinizes herself in the mirror that takes up the entire wall behind the vanity. Her cheeks are a bit rosier than normal, and she can feel her heart beating too fast in her chest.

“OK, get a grip,” she tells herself quietly, leaning toward the mirror to give herself a stern look, her hands on the counter next to the sink. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, it’s just a date with a guy that you _know_ is into you. So what if nothing happens tonight? You’ve got time… OK, not all the time in the world, but still. There’s no immediate rush. You do not need to get laid tonight.”

Oh, but she wants to…

She would love to splash some water on her face, but she doesn’t want to ruin her makeup, so she settles for running some over her wrists before leaving the room again.

Bellamy looks up when she enters the living room, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth up. She notes that he still has the remote in his hand, and that his other arm is stretched out along the back of the couch, behind her previous spots. She takes this as encouragement and sits down closer to him than before, not quite pressed up against him but still close enough that she feels the heat from his body all along her side, and leans back against his arm. He slides it down from the couch and wraps it around her shoulders loosely and immediately, the slight awkwardness from a little earlier is gone.

He starts the movie again, but Clarke still has trouble following along with the plot, instead preoccupied with the way his fingers move against the skin on her upper arm, just below the edge of her short sleeve, the way his breath makes a few strands of her hair move every time he exhales.

When the timer on Bellamy’s phone goes off, she jumps a little, earning a chuckle from him.

“Time for dessert,” he notes, voice a little rough. He clears his throat as he pulls his arm from around her and stands up.

_I wouldn’t mind a different kind of dessert,_ Clarke thinks, but of course doesn’t say. She gets up too and follows him back into the kitchen, where he pulls the pan from the oven and puts it down on the counter. A wonderful chocolatey smell fills the room and she almost licks her lips in anticipation.

“There’s ice cream in the freezer,” he tells her. “I got vanilla specifically for this, but I think there’s rocky road too, and maybe chocolate fudge brownie, if you want a real chocolate overdose.”

She pulls the freezer door open with a laugh. “I might like chocolate, but that’s too much, even for me. Vanilla is perfect.”

She finds the ice cream and puts it down on the counter next to a tray that Bellamy’s produced from somewhere. He’s putting some of the cake in two bowls and spooning the gooey sauce in the bottom of the pan over it. “Enough?” he asks, holding out one of the bowls for her.

“More than enough,” she replies, glancing at the pan. “Did you split it down the middle or something? I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be more than two servings.”

Bellamy just shrugs and scoops some ice cream into both bowls before placing them on the tray. “I doubt it’ll taste as good tomorrow, so we might as well eat what we can now.”

She shakes her head amusedly as she puts the ice cream back in the fridge and then follows him back into the living room, accepting one of the bowls before sitting back down on the couch.

The first spoonful makes the flavors explode in her mouth and she has to hold back a moan. “Oh my God, this is amazing,” she exclaims when she’s swallowed. “And I’ve explored New York’s chocolate scene extensively, so I know what I’m talking about.”

Bellamy laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment, then. I have to admit, it is good. I’m not usually that big on chocolate, but this might just convert me…”

Try as she might, though, there’s no way Clarke can finish the whole bowl, and there’s still about one third left of the cake when she finally surrenders, though she’s finished the ice cream.

“OK, I admit defeat,” she announces, putting the bowl down on the table and letting out a big breath.

“I thought you said there was always room for chocolate?” he says with a chuckle.

“I was wrong,” she admits. “If I eat any more I might actually be sick, and nobody wants that.”

“Well, in that case, I’m calling it too,” Bellamy says, letting his spoon clatter down in the bowl and putting it down next to hers. “It was amazing but I think next time I’ll have to save some room and not eat as much dinner.”

The mention of _next time_ , though it can definitely be interpreted in connection with the chocolate cake and not her, causes a warm tingle in Clarke’s stomach and she turns a little on the couch so she can look straight at him without having to turn her head.

“That sounds like a good plan,” she agrees, eyes falling on some chocolate on his cheek, right next to the corner of his mouth. “You have a little…” She gestures at the spot, and he sticks his tongue out, trying to lick it off.

“Did I get it?”

She shakes her head, reaching over to wipe the chocolate off with her thumb. When she withdraws her hand, she sees him follow it with his eyes and without thinking too much about it, instead of wiping it off on her napkin, she sticks her thumb in her mouth and sucks the chocolate off.

Bellamy’s eyes lock on hers as she does, midnight dark and blazing, and she feels her own heartbeat pick up.

She’s not sure who makes the first move, but a split second later, they both surge forward, colliding in the middle with a clash of lips and teeth. It’s a little awkward for a short moment, but then he slides a hand into her hair, tilting her head a little to the side, and they both moan as she parts her lips for him, letting him deepen the kiss.

They kiss like that for what feels like hours, but eventually, Clarke’s neck starts to complain at the odd angle, and she desperately wants to get closer, so she pushes against his chest to get him to move backwards on the couch. He does, pulling her along, and after some maneuvering – she doesn’t want to break the kiss but it’s tricky – she manages to move so she has one leg on either side of his hips, straddling him on the couch.

He wraps one arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, the other hand resting lightly against her hip, and she in turn buries her fingers in his hair, earning a groan as she drags her nails lightly against his scalp.

She really needs to catch her breath, though, so reluctantly, she pulls away a little, looking down at him. The slightly wrecked look on his face, pupils dilated, lips open and slightly bruised from their kisses, goes straight to her core and she grinds down against his lap, feeling the effect she’s having on him.

“Fuck, Princess, you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he gets out through gritted teeth, nosing at her chin until she lifts her head to give him better access to her throat.

“I think, oh God…” She trails off for a moment when he latches on to a sensitive spot right below her ear. “I think I might.”

Bellamy growls, actually growls, low in his throat and she feels his fingers hesitating at the hem of her top before slipping under it. His hand is large and warm against her back, and she moans at the combination of that and his teeth lightly grazing the junction between her neck and shoulder.

She inwardly curses her choice to wear these pants – the material is thin, and she can feel every inch of him through them, but they’re not exactly easy to get off in this position. The skirt she discarded would have been much more… practical in this situation.

Bellamy seems happy enough to stay where they are, though, at least for the moment, his hand sliding up and down her spine, sending shivers through her. He trails wet, open mouthed kisses back up her throat and then down again, continuing past her collar bone to the swell of her breasts, right above her neckline, and she can’t help but arch her back against him when he sucks a bruise into the sensitive flesh there. He keeps going a moment later, and when she feels the wet warmth of his mouth over her nipple through the material of her top and bra, she doesn’t even try to hold back the whine that rises up in her throat.

It feels like the blood in her veins is on fire, and she desperately wants to get closer, so when he pulls away slightly, she immediately tugs him up for another kiss. She releases her grip on his curls to pull the front of his shirt free of his jeans, and slides both hands up his stomach. His abdominal muscles twitch at her touch, and his fingers dig into the flesh on her hip for a moment before abandoning it completely. A second later, she feels his hand tangle in her hair, pressing her impossibly closer.

She lets her hands wander as high as they can get, but the shirt limits her movements considerably, so with a huff, she instead starts trying to unbutton the top button, to get the shirt off completely.

When he realizes what she’s doing, Bellamy breaks the kiss and pulls back so he can look up at her. Clarke frowns in disappointment, but takes the opportunity to finally get the button she was working on undone and continue with the next one.

“You sure?” he asks, voice rough and breath matching hers, just as she gets the second button undone and moves onto the next. “There’s no rush, that’s not… I didn’t…”

She cuts him off with another, shorter, kiss.

“Relax,” she tells him with a smile. “I know you didn’t have some sort of master plan to get me into bed, OK?”

He looks relieved

“Good. I mean, not that I don’t _want_ to… obviously, I just don’t want you to think that…”

“Bellamy?” He immediately snaps his mouth shut and nods. “Stop talking.”

He does, pulling her down and putting his mouth to better use instead.

Clarke has finally gotten the last of the shirt buttons undone, and he leans forward so she can push the garment off his shoulders before he pulls his arms out of the sleeves and immediately wraps them around her again. One hand slips back under her top and continues north until he reaches her bra, which he gets undone with impressive speed.

She can’t get the bra off without either taking the top off first, or doing the little under-the-shirt routine to get the straps off her shoulders. Still, since it’s no longer clasped in the back, it’s not as tight anymore, which Bellamy takes immediate advantage off by pulling down her top and the cups of her bra, palming her right breast in his hand while his lips close around her left nipple.

“Oh, fuck,” Clarke manages to get out at the feel of his teeth grazing the hardening bud. The sensation travels through her entire body, and she presses herself closer to him, desperate for some friction.

He hums against her breast, his hot breath fanning across her already overheated skin, and slides his right hand around her waist, hesitating for just a split second before slipping it into her pants and underwear, squeezing her butt.

She lets the sensations take over, her head falling back and lips parting slightly, and for a long moment, the only thing in the entire world is Bellamy, his hands and mouth on her, the wonderful though not completely satisfactory friction as she rocks slowly against him, the muscles of his shoulder flexing underneath her hand and his hair curled around her fingers. It’s sensory overload in a way she’s never experienced before.

When his lips leave her breast – minutes, hours later? Clarke really can’t tell – she’s about to object, but then he kisses his way up her throat, eventually reaching her lips. She moans into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, their tongues battling lazily with each other.

Getting more and more impatient, she reaches between them and quickly gets the button and zipper of his jeans undone. At the same time, he pushes the hem of her top up, and they break the kiss briefly so he can pull it all the way off. She lets the straps of her bra slide off her arms and tosses it aside before leaning down once more.

She feels Bellamy’s hand, big and warm, slide down along her spine and then around to her ribcage, the other hand joining it on its journey up, and a moment later, he swallows her gasp as he tweaks both her nipples at the same time. In retaliation, she slips one hand into his jeans, cupping him through the material of his boxers, squeezing lightly, and is rewarded with a hiss. His hands abandon her breasts and he hooks two fingers in her leggings, pulling them down.

He doesn’t get far, of course, and when he can’t get any further, he pulls away from her, a small frown on his face.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” Clarke says breathlessly, a little impressed that she can actually string together a complete sentence right now. “Maybe move this somewhere else?”

Bellamy shakes his head, though she’s pretty sure it’s not a no, more a way to clear his mind a little. “Good idea.”

She half-reluctantly climbs off him, swaying a little when she’s upright. He notices, of course, and reaches out to steady her as he gets to his feet himself. Clarke uses his grip on her wrist to pull him along towards the hallway, but they don’t get far before he spins her around, pulling her flush against him again and kissing her, hard. He’s leaning down, so she doesn’t have to stretch up to be able to wrap her arms around his neck, which is a relief when he starts maneuvering her backwards.

Somehow, they make it into the hallway without breaking the kiss or knocking into something. Instead of continuing through the door to his bedroom, though, Bellamy pushes her up against the wall just outside. He pulls away slightly, giving her a smirk that can only be described as devious, and then drops to his knees in front of her. This time, he’s successful in pulling her leggings, and underwear, off, and she steps out of them when they pool around her ankles.

She expects him to get back to his feet, hopefully remove the rest of his own clothes and finally, _finally_ fuck her, but instead, he drapes one of her legs over his shoulder and presses his lips against her stomach, just below her bellybutton.

“Bellamy,” she half-whines, not sure what she actually wants. Her hips jerk against him of their own free will, and she buries her hand in his curls.

“Just want to taste you, Princess,” he murmurs against her thigh, sending shivers of anticipation through her entire body. “Can I?”

“Please, please.”

He doesn’t heed her pleas right away, instead kissing and nibbling his way along her inner thigh, almost reaching the spot where she wants him most before switching to the other thigh. Just as Clarke opens her mouth again to beg him to stop teasing her, he finally does, his tongue sliding along her slit before circling her clit.

“Yes, fuck, like that,” she pants, fingers probably painfully tight around his curls, her head falling back against the wall.

He hums against her sex, which makes her gasp, and then repeats the motion.

It doesn’t take him long to get her to the edge – she was already really keyed up – but he doesn’t let her tumble over it right away.

“Please, I need… I need…” she babbles when she’s _right there_ for the third time.

To her frustration, he actually pulls away completely, but before she can do anything, he slips two fingers inside her, curling them just perfectly, and sucks her clit into his mouth.

She falls apart with a cry, the leg that’s hooked over Bellamy’s shoulder locking him in place. The orgasm washes over her in waves, and after a moment, the only reason she’s upright is that he has her pressed against the wall.

When she finally comes down, he’s placing feather-light kisses against her thighs, stomach, hips. Clarke draws in a deep, shuddering breath and untangles her hand from his hair, letting it fall to his shoulder instead.

He looks up at her, an almost smug smile on his face. Which, OK, he has earned. “Good?” he asks, voice pitched low.

“Like you don’t know,” she says, though her breathless voice makes it less of a grumble than she was going for. Bellamy chuckles against her stomach, squeezing her thigh before lowering her leg back to the floor.

He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, his hands sliding up her sides, and leans down to kiss her. She can taste herself on his lips and tongue, and if anything, it turns her on even more.

“One of us is wearing too much clothes,” Clarke complains, pulling away briefly and slipping her index finger inside the waistband of his boxers.

He raises a challenging eyebrow. “So do something about it.”

Not breaking eye contact, she hooks her thumbs in his jeans, which are still unbuttoned but somehow have stayed up, and starts pushing them down his hips. He quickly reaches behind him, pulling a condom out of the back pocket, and she pauses.

“I thought you weren’t planning on seducing me?” she notes, amused, and gives the jeans one final push to make them fall to the floor.

Bellamy shrugs as he steps out of them and kicks them to the side. “Not planning, but a guy can hope.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Clarke slides her hand down his stomach and continues into his boxers, finally wrapping her hand around him. His eyes fall closed at the feeling and he leans his forehead against hers, letting out a harsh breath.

She sets a slow pace, swiping her thumb over the head of his dick before sliding her hand along the shaft and back up. His hips jerk in time with her movements, and she adds a little more pressure.

But Bellamy grabs her hand and pulls it away. She frowns.

“Did I…”

“No,” he cuts her off. “But we don’t want this to be over before it even starts, do we?”

“Definitely not,” she agrees.

He leans in to kiss her, and she hears the rustle of his boxers joining his jeans on the floor, then the sound of the condom packet being opened, before he steps closer and pushes her up against the wall.

They kiss for a long moment before he hooks his hands behind her thighs and lifts her up so she can wrap her legs lightly around his waist. Without pulling away, Clarke reaches between them to position him at her entrance and he slowly lowers her until he’s completely buried inside her.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groans, fingers digging into her thighs almost painfully.

“Uh-huh,” is the most articulate thing she can get out.

She wraps her arms around his neck, to get some purchase, and manages to rise up a little before sinking back down.

Bellamy meets her movement, thrusting up into her, and they moan in unison.

He takes the lead from there, shallow thrusts making her slide against the wall. It takes a moment, since she’s focused on the pleasure he’s giving her further south, before she realizes that the wall is covered in some sort of textured wallpaper that is less than comfortable against her back.

“Wait, wait,” she gets out, and he immediately stops moving.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Clarke quickly assures him. “Just… the wall…”

Bellamy understands immediately, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her away from the wall.

“Bed?” he suggests, and she nods quickly.

She wraps her legs more securely around his waist as he takes the few steps needed through the door to his bedroom and kicks it closed behind him. He kneels down on the bed and then lowers them both down carefully, managing to get them horizontal without even pulling out of her.

“Better?” he asks, sucking one of her earlobes into his mouth and letting his teeth graze the skin at the same time as he pulls out, almost all the way, and pushes back inside.

“Yes, yes, just like that.”

They find a rhythm quickly, Clarke pushing up to meet each of his thrusts, her nails digging into his back in a way she’s sure must be painful but he doesn’t seem to notice. He trails kisses down her throat until he gets to her breast, where he sucks her nipple into his mouth, hard, drawing a gasp from her.

He slides an arm under her hips, changing the angle of his thrusts just a little and making his pelvic bone drag against her clit on each thrust.

“Oh, God,” she moans, her toes curling into the soft bedspread beneath her.

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to come again, it sometimes takes her a while to get worked up again after an orgasm, but the position soon has her teetering on the edge again. She’s not sure if Bellamy can tell, but he pushes up to kiss her again.

“You close, baby?” he murmurs against her lips, and she nods frantically, a whimper escaping her as he slides a hand between them, finding her clit. “Then let go. Let me feel you.”

And she does, flying over the edge into oblivion, stars exploding behind her eyelids.

She’s vaguely aware of Bellamy hooking one arm under her knee and pulling her leg up, opening her up further to him, and by the time she’s coming down again, his thrusts have turned erratic. Clarke slides a hand up his back, tangling in his hair, and reaches up to kiss him, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and biting lightly.

He comes with a groan, pulsing deep inside her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, keeping him there.

They kiss lazily as their breathing and heartbeats slowly return to normal. After a few minutes, Bellamy breaks the kiss and makes a move to roll off her, but she tightens her legs around him. “Not yet.”

He chuckles but obliges, burying his head against her shoulder and putting most of his weight on her, and they stay like that for a little while longer.

When she releases her hold on him, he kisses her deeply before rolling onto his back and sitting up. She follows, turning onto her side and watching him as he gets rid of the condom in a trashcan under the desk and returns to the bed.

He lays down next to her, on his side too and facing her, just a couple of inches apart. The only light in the room comes from the crack in the door and a streetlamp outside the window, and his face is cast in deep shadows. Reaching out a hand, he lets a finger trail up her side, from her thigh to her shoulder and then down her arm.

“Stay?” he murmurs quietly, eyes intent on hers.

Clarke almost says no without even thinking about it, a knee-jerk reaction. It’s been a while since she’s had more than hook-ups and one night stands, and she has two rules when it comes to those – always go to their place, and never stay the night.

But with Bellamy… she wants to stay the night. She wants to wake up with him in the morning. The thought is more than a little scary.

“OK,” she agrees with a small nod, and he leans forward to kiss her.

“You don’t have work in the morning?” he asks when he’s pulled away.

“Nope, not until the afternoon.”

“And the cat’ll be OK without you?”

The fact that he thinks to ask about Bastet makes Clarke’s heart melt a little. She can’t remember the last time someone she hooked up with did. Though, in all fairness, she doesn’t usually give them the opportunity to, since she doesn’t exactly engage them in deep conversations about their lives. But still. It’s nice.

“She’ll be fine, I gave her a little extra food before I left.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Really? Were you planning on staying out all night?”

She scoots closer and slides her arm around his waist, nudges his nose with hers. “Not planning…” she starts, repeating his earlier words back to him. “But a girl can hope.”

He laughs at that and kisses her before pulling away completely.

“Do you want a t-shirt or something to sleep in?” he asks, getting up from the bed and rounding it.

The sweat is starting to cool on her skin, and she realizes that she’s actually a little cold, so she nods. “Yeah, that would be great.”

He opens the second drawer in the dresser next to the door and rummages around a little before pulling out a t-shirt and tossing it to her. She holds it up – it’s grey, with the text ‘How was the Roman Empire cut in half? With a pair of Caesars’ on the front. Clarke can’t help it, she laughs out loud.

“Gag gift from Miller last Christmas,” Bellamy explains, before disappearing into the hallway. He returns a moment later, now wearing his boxers, and holding her leggings and panties. He hangs the leggings over the back of the desk chair, and holds out the panties to her. “Thought you might want these.”

She takes them and pulls them on before tugging the t-shirt over her head as well.

“Do you want to use the bathroom first?” he asks. “There should be an extra toothbrush in one of the drawers.”

“OK, thanks.”

She leans up for a kiss as she passes him, pulling away with a laugh when he reaches for her in an attempt to deepen the kiss, and then heads to the bathroom next door.

She uses the toilet before going on her toothbrush hunt. The first drawer seems to function as a medicine cabinet, with a couple of boxes of Tylenol, DayQuil and NyQuil, some bandages and Neosporin. She finds the toothbrush in the second drawer, but there’s not just one, there’s an eight-pack with two missing. She quickly pushes away any thoughts on why that might be there – it’s none of her business.

She pulls out one and brushes her teeth, deliberately not opening the remaining two drawers or the cupboard under the sink. She doesn’t want to snoop, even though he technically gave her permission to by not specifying exactly where the toothbrush was… She washes her face as well, cleaning off her make-up, and pulls her hair into a messy braid before leaving the bathroom.

Bellamy’s sitting on the edge of the bed when she returns to the room. He’s turned on a bedside lamp, closed the blinds and removed the bedspread from the bed while she was gone. The comforter that was hidden underneath is dark grey, and there are two matching pillows as well as a bunch of other, mismatched ones, at the head of the bed.

“There wasn’t just _one_ toothbrush,” she says. “There was an eight-pack. Who needs that many toothbrushes?”

He chuckles. “It’s Miller, he has a bulk buying problem,” he explains.

Clarke raises an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Jackson took him to Costco on his birthday a couple of months ago, and he said it was the best one he’s ever had.” He gets up from the bed and crosses the room to her, sliding his arms around her waist. “Why, did you think it was for all the girls I pick up at the bar on weekends?”

The thought had crossed her mind…

“Go get ready for bed,” she tells him in lieu of answering, and he leaves the room laughing.

There’s a book on the nightstand on one side of the bed, so Clarke gets in on the other side, fluffing up a couple of pillows and settling in. The mattress is just the perfect combination of soft and supportive, and the huge comforter is feather light but warm.

Bellamy returns a few minutes later, now sporting a pair of glasses with black, chunky frames.

“You wear glasses?” she asks as he pulls back the comforter and gets in bed next to her.

“Contacts, usually,” he replies. “I can technically sleep with them but my eyes are always really dry in the morning, so I normally don’t.”

“Hmm…” she hums, reaching out to push a few curls away from his forehead, her eyes sliding over his Number. She absentmindedly realizes that it’s the first time she even notices it tonight. 245. “I like them.”

“Good,” he replies, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. “I’d hate for my glasses to be a deal breaker.”

Clarke slides a hand into his hair before pulling him in for a kiss, and he hums contentedly against her lips.

It’s not a kiss that’s leading anywhere, really, just a drawn out goodnight, in a way. After a few minutes, she pulls away and places one last, chaste kiss on his lips before turning around, so her back’s against him, and scooting backwards until her back is against his chest. She feels Bellamy shift away from her for a moment, probably taking off his glasses and then turning the light off, before he returns to his previous position and slides an arm around her waist, resting his hand against her stomach.

“This OK?” he murmurs into her shoulder, breath warm against her skin even through the t-shirt.

Clarke places her hand on top of his and interlaces their fingers.

“Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	11. Until the Sky Falls down on Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up sort of where we left off – the Morning After! Hope you like it :)
> 
> As always, I don’t own anything relating to The 100, I’m just borrowing the characters for a little while
> 
> Big thanks to my wonderful beta, Liz!
> 
> Chapter title from “Truly Madly Deeply” by Savage Garden
> 
> Please see the end of the chapters for warnings!

Clarke is sure they must have moved during the night, but when she wakes up the next day, cold morning light seeping in through the drawn blinds, they’re in almost the exact same position as last night – her on her side, Bellamy right behind her, close enough that she can feel body heat radiating off him but not quite pressed against her back. The only difference is his hand, which is now resting on her thigh.

His breathing is deep and slow, so she assumes he’s still asleep, but when she shifts a little, his hand slides down her thigh and then back up, settling on her hip. He pulls her tighter against him, grinding his hips against her butt, and she lets out a low moan at the feel of his morning wood.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice raspy with sleep, into her ear, making her shiver.

“Mmm, morning,” she replies, pushing back against him. “Someone’s up.”

He chuckles against her throat before placing an openmouthed kiss below her ear. Clarke reaches back to slide her fingers into his hair and twists her head to be able to kiss him. It’s not the most comfortable angle for her, but by the time she breaks the kiss to let her neck rest, they’re both breathing hard.

Bellamy’s hand abandons her hip, trailing up her stomach and under the t-shirt, finally reaching her breast where he flicks a nail over her nipple, making her gasp, before palming her breast and squeezing lightly. She arches her back into the touch, but too soon he moves to her other breast, repeating his motions, and then slides his hand back down her body, all the way into her panties.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groans against her skin as his index finger slides easily between her already slick folds. Clarke angles her hips slightly and he immediately takes the hint and pushes the finger inside her, easing some of the tension coiling in her body.

Their position doesn’t let her do much more than move in time with his finger sliding into her and his hips grinding against her back. Their bodies are pressed too closely together for her to be able to get a hand between them and wrap around him, but she still reaches back under the comforter, finding his thigh, and lets her nails drag along it up to his boxers. The hiss in her ear tells her that he likes it, so she repeats the motion, this time continuing to the waistline and tugging, trying to tell him that she wants them _off_.

He pulls his finger out of her – which was so not what she wanted – but then he tries to push her panties down. She abandons her attempt at removing his underwear to help him get hers down her legs. While she’s kicking them and the comforter off, the sudden exposure to the air making her skin break out in goosebumps, he shifts away from her for a moment and when he returns, his boxers are finally gone. He’s fully hard now and when he pushes forward, his dick easily slides between her butt cheeks.

Bellamy stills for a moment, his fingers digging into her hips. Then he pulls back, sliding against her wetness with ease, and pushes forward again. Clarke gasps as the head of his dick bumps her clit, her fingers curling into the sheets. He slides his hand up her stomach, this time pushing the t-shirt up until it’s bunched underneath her arms, and pinches her nipple, making her arch against him.

She needs more, though, so she meets his next thrust with an angling of her hips, which pushes just the tip of his dick inside her. He lets out a ragged breath against her throat, but instead of pushing all the way in, he pulls away completely.

For a moment, Clarke’s confused, but then she hears the drawer in the nightstand opening. Right, condoms. She doesn’t technically need to worry about them, since she can’t get pregnant or catch an STD – both curtesy of being a Soul Keeper – but it’s probably too soon to pull the ‘I have an IUD and I’m clean’ card.

She rolls over, wanting to be face to face, and snaps the little foil packet out of Bellamy’s hand when he turns back to her. He watches her open it and roll the condom on, his breath hitching as she squeezes a little before letting go. Then he pulls her towards him, taking her mouth in a deep, dirty kiss. She happily returns it while shifting her hips forward a little and hitching her leg around his waist, her heel digging into his back and urging him closer. His hand slides along her back, across her hip and down her thigh and then he’s lining himself up and slowly pushing inside her.

They both pause, breaking the kiss when he’s completely buried inside her, their eyes locked for an infinite moment. Then Clarke moves her hips back just a little, letting him slide out an inch or so, and then forward again, pulling him back in.

Bellamy’s hand flexes against her back before sliding down, coming to a stop at her hip. The next time she moves, he meets her, keeping his movement slow but pushing deeper inside her, and she lets out a gasp at the feeling, wrapping her fingers around his bicep to have something to hold onto.

It’s slow and lazy, perfect morning sex, and Clarke realizes that she’s missed this, the intimacy of waking up with another person, of taking the time to enjoy each other’s bodies without hurry. The room is quiet, the only sound their bodies moving together and the occasional gasp and moan, the quiet of a Sunday morning like a heavy blanket over them.

For a long moment, their eyes are locked, their shallow breaths intermingling in the few inches of space between them, but then Bellamy closes the distance and kisses her, soft at first but when she parts her lips to let him in, it quickly turns dirty. His fingers dig into her hip for a moment, before he slides his hand around, up her stomach and finds her breast. When he pinches her nipple, she lets out a moan that he swallows, and he then repeats the motion in time with his thrusts. It’s not long before Clarke has to break the kiss to gasp for air, the first hints of her orgasm starting to build deep inside her.

He doesn’t let her catch her breath, though, sliding a hand down her stomach and rubbing tight circles against her clit at the same time as he pulls a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Within moments, she’s tumbling over the edge, eyes falling shut and mouth opening in a silent cry.

It’s not an explosive orgasm, like last night, no fireworks going off. Instead it washes over her in warm waves, slow ripples of pleasure rising and waning over and over. Bellamy keeps up the slow pace of his thrusts and a light pressure against her clit through it, though he abandons her breast to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin of her throat and neck, whispering things in her ear in between. Clarke only picks up bits and pieces here and there – beautiful Princess, feel amazing, good girl.

It feels like ages before she finally comes down, opening her eyes to meet Bellamy’s gaze. His mouth quirks up at one corner.

“There you are,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss.

She hums contentedly and wraps an arm around his neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away and pushing against his chest. He raises an eyebrow but secures an arm around her waist before rolling onto his back and taking her with him.

Clarke pushes herself into an upright position, which makes the t-shirt – that she had honestly completely forgotten that she was still wearing – fall down over her chest and stomach and pool slightly at her hips. She quickly pulls it over her head and tosses it to the side before leaning down for a kiss.

She stays still for a moment, focusing on the kiss and adjusting her position so she has better purchase, before she rises up slowly, almost letting him slip out of her completely, and then sinks back down in one fluid motion, twisting her hips a little.

“That’s it, Princess, feels fucking amazing,” he breathes against her mouth, his hands settling on her hips.

She rises up again, and back down, setting a quicker pace than earlier. Bellamy’s hands on her hips guides her lightly and he meets her movement with upward thrusts, but apart from that, he lets her take the reins.

She breaks the kiss after a while, bracing her hands against his chest and throwing her head back. On her next rise, she experimentally squeezes her internal muscles, and is rewarded with his fingers digging into her hips almost painfully.

“Oh, fuck, do that again.”

She does, eyes intent on his face as he squeezes his shut and grinds his teeth together, breath coming in quick gasps. It’s exhilarating, seeing that she can do this to him, having that kind of power. She leans down, letting her teeth graze his nipple and picking up the pace a little. The next time she sinks down, his hands tighten on her hips, preventing her from rising back up, and a moment later, she feels him pulsing inside her.

Clarke’s own orgasm a little while ago exhausted a lot of her energy, so she lets herself collapse on top of him, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. His hands move up from her hips, one arm circling her waist and holding her close, the other hand trailing up and down her spine.

“Now, that’s a good way to wake up on a Sunday,” Bellamy notes after a long moment, when both their heartbeats have finally returned to normal.

Clarke laughs at that and turns her face in against his neck, nosing at the skin beneath his ear. “Oh yeah. Wouldn’t mind that kind of wake-up call in the mornings. Way better than my alarm.”

His hand continues further north this time and he tugs a little on her braid.

“That can be arranged.” His voice is light and she’s not sure if he’s serious or if it’s just one of those things you say. Luckily, she’s saved from answering by her stomach rumbling loudly. Bellamy chuckles. “Breakfast?”

“Mmm, yeah. But maybe a shower first.”

“Good idea.”

She reluctantly moves off him, rummaging around at the foot of the bed to locate her panties as he ties off the condom and throws it in the trash. Before they leave the bedroom – neither of them bothering to put on any clothes – she opens the drawer in the nightstand and grabs another condom. He raises an eyebrow at her. “Really, Princess? Insatiable, are we?”

“You better get used to it.”

He just chuckles as he follows her into the hallway and then the bathroom. The harsh light makes her blink a couple of times, breaking the gentle haze of the morning.

Bellamy steps into the shower first, turning the water on and twisting the knob to hot. Clarke drops the condom on the counter before following him, closing the glass sliding door behind her and sticking a hand into the spray. It seems that he, like her, likes the water borderline scalding, which she appreciates.

“I’m afraid we don’t really have a lot of options here,” he says, gesturing at a shelf in one corner, where there are a few bottles of shampoo and body wash, all for men, which makes sense.

“That’s OK,” she says, taking a step closer to him, into the spray of the water. “I don’t mind smelling like you.”

He steps closer too, so her breasts are pressed against his chest. “Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

She doesn’t particularly want to slip and break her neck in his shower, so instead of reaching up on her tiptoes, she wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him down to her for a kiss. Bellamy’s arms immediately goes around her waist, pulling her closer.

They kiss for a long moment, the water beating down on both of them, steam forming in the enclosed space. Then he pushes her up against the shower wall, and Clarke hisses as the cool tiles hit her back.

“Cold,” she complains when he pulls back with a frown, and he chuckles.

“Maybe we should wash up?” he then suggests. “You know, what showers are for.”

“Oh, is that the only thing showers are for?” she questions, letting her hand slide down his chest and across his stomach, her nails scraping over his abs. Bellamy bites his lip as she continues further down, but she stops before she reaches her goal, backtracking the way she came.

“Tease,” he murmurs in her ear before taking a step back, and Clarke laughs.

“Come on, I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine,” she offers, turning away from him.

He does, squeezing some shower gel into his hands and running them across her shoulders and down her back, massaging the lather into her skin with firm movements. He then moves onto her right arm, even scrubbing the palm of her hand before switching to the other arm and repeating the routine.

As he finishes, Clarke’s breathing picks up in anticipation, and when she hears him kneel down behind her, she’s almost disappointed. But then he wraps both hands around her left ankle and slowly works his way up her leg, all the way to the juncture between her thighs. His hands disappear briefly, and then one returns, rinsed off, and he cups her sex for a moment, sliding one finger along her slit, before he gets some more shower gel and starts massaging it into her right thigh, this time working his way down.

By the time Bellamy gets to his feet and slowly comes around to face her again, her legs are shaking slightly. He leans in to kiss her once, deep but short, before squeezing some more shower gel into his hands and rubbing them together to make it lather. He then places his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles against her collar bones for a moment before he slides his hands down her chest. He makes no move to stop at her breasts but continues all the way to her hips where he rubs the soap into her slippery skin, slowly moving upwards. When he finally reaches her breasts again, she’s panting, and when he uses one finger to circle her left nipple, she has to squeeze her eyes shut.

“Fuck,” she breathes, and he chuckles.

“You like that, baby?”

She just nods, limply letting him guide her under the spray of the water again to wash the shower gel off. A moment later, she feels his lips against hers and eagerly opens up to let him in. His hands slide down her back, all the way to her butt, and he pulls her closer.

Clarke hums into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing her hips against his. She feels his dick, half-hard again, twitch against her stomach.

When she pulls away, she gives him an innocent smile.

“Your turn.”

Bellamy watches her through hooded eyes as she finds the bottle of shower gel and squirts some into her hand. She starts the way he did, with his back, rubbing the soap into his skin and digging her fingers into his muscles at the same time. He lets out a content breath, his head falling to one side and she presses a quick kiss to his neck before continuing with his arms.

Clarke takes her time, massaging the shower gel into every inch of his back, shoulders, arms and legs. When she moves around to his front, she glances down to confirm that he’s at full attention before she starts on his chest. The muscles in his stomach jump under her hands, and when she sinks to her knees in front of him, he opens his eyes and looks down at her.

She maintains eye contact as she wets her lips and then drags her tongue along his dick, from the base all the way to the tip, and relishes the sharp intake of breath she gets in response. When she wraps a hand around him and sucks the head into her mouth, his fingers tangle in her hair.

She takes him as deep as she can, hollowing her cheeks when he hits the back of her throat and sucking hard for a moment. He lets out a string of expletives and his grip on her hair tightens. Happy with this reaction, she pulls back, swirling her tongue around the head before again sucking him into her mouth.

This time, she doesn’t pause as long but instead moves her mouth over him at a faster pace, using her hand at the base. After a few minutes of this, she feels Bellamy tugging at her hair more insistently than before.

“Fuck, babe, stop, I’m close.”

She reluctantly releases him and looks up. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

His hand leaves her hair and he tugs her up, kissing her hard.

“Maybe I want to come fucking you,” he whispers in her ear, the words going straight to her core.

“Well, I guess if you insist,” she replies, stepping away from him and sliding the shower door open.

“What’s wrong with right here?” he asks, tugging her back against his chest and grinding his hips against her butt.

“Do you know how many shower sex related injuries American hospitals see every year?” Clarke retorts. “I for one don’t want to be just another statistic. Wash off and join me.”

He laughs at that but does step under the spray to rinse off and then follows her out of the shower, obediently taking the towel she holds out and drying off haphazardly.

“Bed?”

“I said no shower sex, I didn’t say no bathroom sex,” she replies with a smirk, hopping onto the vanity across from the shower. The space between the wall and sink is wide enough that she fits without a problem and the counter seems to be the perfect height.

Bellamy hesitates for a brief moment before stepping between her legs. “Good thing Miller’s not home, that lock’s been broken for ages.”

She runs a hand down his chest and stomach, wrapping around him lightly. His eyes slide closed and he leans heavily against the counter, hands on either side of her thighs. “So what I’m hearing is make the most of the time we have before he gets back.”

“Good idea.”

He leans down to kiss her, hands moving to her hips and pulling her forward, to the edge of the counter. Clarke fumbles around next to her and eventually finds the condom she brought earlier, eagerly ripping the package open. He takes over from there, rolling the condom on before sliding one finger inside her, making sure she’s wet enough. Which, really not a problem, she’s been practically dripping since he finished cleaning her off in the shower. Still, he pumps his finger into her a few times, curling it just right, before lining himself up and pushing all the way inside her in one thrust. Not pausing, he pulls almost all the way out and then pushes back inside, a little more force behind it this time, which has her crying out as he hits a spot deep inside her.

“OK?” he asks with a frown, slowing a little but not stopping.

She nods frantically, using her heels to urge him on. “Yeah, yeah, keep going.”

He does, not quite as forcefully but definitely with enough power that she would have been pushed backwards on the counter if he hadn’t been holding her still. His mouth finds hers again, demanding, and she returns the kiss with just as much fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck to get even closer.

The tile underneath her butt is cold, a perfect contrast to the heat radiating off him, and she loses herself in the rhythm of their bodies moving in sync, their tongues sliding together, his hands on her hips and her fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

When he breaks away from her to trail kisses down her throat to her breast, she throws her head back to give him better access and leans back against the counter. Only her right hand doesn’t find the counter, but the sink, sliding down into the bowl, making her tilt to the side.

Bellamy immediately stops moving and straightens up, a confused expression on his face for a moment, before they both burst out laughing. Clarke pushes herself out of the sink and places both hands on his chest. “OK, let me down.”

He nods and takes a couple of steps back so she can hop down on the floor. Her legs aren’t as steady as they might have been, but she doesn’t collapse in a heap, so she takes that as a win. Instead of pulling him along out of the bathroom and back to bed, which Bellamy probably expected, she turns on the spot, placing her hands on the counter she was sitting on a moment ago, and meets his eyes in the mirror behind it, raising her eyebrow.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and he steps up close behind her, one hand going around to cup her breast while he uses the other to position himself at her entrance and pushing inside her again. Clarke lets out a sigh and lets her eyes slide closed at the new angle this position gives him.

“No,” he murmurs in her ear, pinching her nipple, hard, making her moan. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

So she does.

She’s not sure what it is, but watching herself in the mirror, Bellamy right behind her, is incredibly erotic. The bathroom counter hits her just below her belly button, so she can’t actually see him fucking her, but she can see the expression on both their faces, the way her breasts bounce with each thrust, his fingers digging into the flesh on her hips.

She can tell by the way his jaw is clenched together that he’s close, and it’s not like she minds not coming during sex, it’s not a must for her and she’s definitely enjoying herself, but still… she keeps her eyes locked with his as she uses one hand to push away from the counter a little, enough so that she can get the other hand down between her legs, finger immediately finding her clit.

But Bellamy won’t have that – she had almost suspected as much – and he pushes her hand away and takes over, his other hand sliding up from her hip to her breast, thumbnail scraping over her nipple a little harder than he probably intended, pulling a high-pitched whine from her.

Clarke leans forward a little more, not breaking eye contact, and braces her elbows against the counter instead of her hand. “Faster,” she gasps, pushing back against him.

He doesn’t need telling twice, immediately picking up the pace, using his thumb and index finger to tweak her nipple and applying more pressure against her clit, almost too much. Another thrust and his mouth on her throat, teeth nipping at her skin, and Clarke comes hard, squeezing her lips together to not scream out loud. As if he had been waiting for her release, Bellamy thrusts once more and follows her, groan buried against her skin.

She collapses against the counter, the only thing preventing her from sliding all the way down to the floor his arm tight around her waist, holding her against him.

Bellamy recovers first, straightening up behind her and pulling out. He presses a kiss at the base of her neck before releasing her, and Clarke slowly pushes herself up into an upright position, still leaning heavily on the counter and trying to catch her breath.

“You good?” he asks, nuzzling her neck and squeezing her hip.

“Fucking amazing,” she replies. “Just give my legs a moment to start working again.”

He chuckles, moving away from her to grab their discarded towels off the floor. He wraps one around his hips and drapes the other over her shoulders, making Clarke realize that the bathroom has cooled down considerably since they got out of the shower and she’s actually shivering a little.

“I’ll go get started on breakfast,” he tells her, his lips pressing against her temple briefly, and she nods.

He closes the door behind him and she waits a little longer, until her breath has returned to normal and it doesn’t feel like her heart is going to beat out of her chest, before lifting the toilet seat and sitting down. When she’s finished, she wraps the towel more securely around herself and looks in the mirror.

She has a hickey at the junction between her neck and her left shoulder, and she touches the spot, remembering Bellamy’s mouth there just a little while ago. She’ll have to remember to wear high neck tops over the next week or so, to avoid comments from the kids at her homework sessions, but she kind of likes it.

Her hair is starting to dry in an attempt at impersonating a bird’s nest. There’s a comb on the counter, so she works through the tresses, getting out all the tangles. The end result isn’t fantastic in any way, but it’s the best she’ll be able to do at the moment. She splashes some water on her face and then leaves the bathroom.

There are sounds coming from the kitchen, telling her that Bellamy’s already at work making breakfast. When she enters the bedroom, she finds that her bra and top have joined her leggings and panties on the back of the desk chair. The blinds have been opened slightly, letting in more light while still giving her privacy, but apart from that, the room looks exactly the same, the sheets still rumpled and the comforter kicked to the foot of the bed.

She pulls on her panties and leggings and puts on her bra, but instead of her top, which feels a little too flashy in the morning, she grabs the shirt she slept in off the floor and tugs it over her head.

There’s a clock on the wall over the dresser, and the time – only ten fifteen – surprises her a little, since they must have been up for a couple of hours by now. Then again, she supposes they probably went to sleep fairly early last night. She definitely wasn’t keeping track of the time, but she arrived at seven, so they probably finished dinner around eight thirty, then dessert… The intense make-out session on the couch felt like it went on for hours at the time, but that was probably just her mind playing tricks on her. All in all, they were probably in bed – and asleep – by midnight.

It’s so different from what she’s used to, picking up virtual strangers at a bar or club, stumbling into bed well into the small hours and slipping out again before first light. But the domesticity of last night and this morning – having dinner together, watching a movie (or at least trying to) and falling asleep together after amazing sex, waking up and doing it all over again – is something Clarke hadn’t even known she was missing.

And something she could definitely get used to.

She determinedly refuses to linger on the thought that it won’t last long enough for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content. Honestly, this is basically just sex. I snuck some plot in there, but not that much…


	12. Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up literally where we left off this time, the rest of the morning after. Hope you like it… Funny side note – Clarke’s cat is actually based on my own two fur babies who, I swear, understand the word “treats” (or the Swedish word “godis”) and will basically come whenever they hear it
> 
> Chapter title from “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley (originally) and UB40 (which was the version I was thinking of). As usual, I don’t own anything relating to The 100

When Clarke enters the kitchen, Bellamy is at the stove, a large but still empty pan on one burner and a bowl in his hands. The toaster is plugged in on the counter, two slices already in it, and there’s an empty bread basket waiting next to it.

He looks up when he hears her, a smile appearing on his face when their eyes meet. “Hey there.”

She returns the smile, pulling out one of the bar stools and climbing onto it. It’s starting to feel a little like her spot, which she likes. “Hey. I hope you don’t mind, I’m commandeering your shirt a little longer.”

He lets his eyes run down from hers, taking in the shirt in question, before meeting her eyes again and raising an eyebrow. “Feel free to wear my clothes whenever you want. In fact, I encourage it. It definitely looks better on you.”

She laughs and shakes her head, pushes down the flash of desire his intense gaze and the words caused to shoot through her. “OK, good.”

“Scrambled eggs and toast OK?” he asks, opening a drawer and finding a whisk. “We don’t have much else, to be honest, so keep that in mind when you answer.”

“It’s perfect,” she assures him.

He shoots her another smile before starting to whisk the eggs that she assumes he’s already cracked in the bowl. She watches him work in silence, pouring the eggs into the pan and removing the finished toast when they pop up, putting another couple of slices in the toaster.

“You said you have work this afternoon?” he asks after a while, glancing up from the stove and Clarke nods. “When do you need to head out?”

She considers it for a moment. It’s Sunday, so traffic shouldn’t be too bad, but she still needs to go home first. “Probably in an hour or so? I have a story time at two thirty, but I need to stop at home and change, and probably grab a light lunch before my shift, I won’t be done until around four. Actually, I should probably get an Uber, there might not be any nearby…”

“Hey, no, I’ll take you,” Bellamy says immediately, continuing when she opens her mouth to argue. “Seriously, I need to get out of the apartment anyway, stop by the store for some provisions before I hunker down for an afternoon in front of the computer. Plus, it’s completely selfish – I’ll drive you home, wait while you get changed, and then I’ll take you to the library. You don’t have to leave as early, and I get to spend more time with you.”

His little speech is really cute, and she’s already convinced before he even stops talking. “Are you sure?” she still asks, holding back a smile.

“Positive,” he tells her, leaving the stove and leaning across the breakfast counter towards her. “And maybe we can grab something to eat at that diner you took me to last week? I mean, if you’re going to that library and not different one.”

“It’s that one,” Clarke confirms.

“Yeah? So, what do you say? Unless you were planning something else, of course.”

His eyes are intent on hers, his thumb rubbing against her arm as he waits for her reply.

“I didn’t have any plans at all, so that sounds great,” she replies with a smile, noticing how his shoulders seem to relax.

“Good,” Bellamy says with a nod, reaching up to cup her neck and pull her in for a kiss.

She returns it for a moment, but then pulls back. “The eggs,” she reminds him when he frowns slightly at her, and he quickly returns to the stove.

“Fine, prioritize getting fed,” he says, voice amused. “I see how it is.”

She watches him for a little longer, noticing that he seems lighter than a moment ago, standing taller somehow. Almost like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

She wonders if he was actually worried that she was just going to take off, if he’s still expecting her to bolt at any moment. The contrast between this insecure side of him and the guy that fucked her until she could barely stand just a little while ago is stark and makes her heart ache a little, since she knows it must be because of her disappearing act on Halloween.

Not that she can really blame him.

Before she can second guess herself, she slides off the stool and rounds the counter, coming up behind him silently. She wraps her arms around his waist and leans her cheek against his back, breathing in the scent of the shower gel that she knows she must smell like herself.

Bellamy freezes for a moment, but then he relaxes, one hand coming up to squeeze hers.

Clarke knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she’s in this, until the bitter end, even knowing it will come much too soon. Now she just has to make him believe that.

The moment stretches on, her cheek pressed against his back, his heart beating softly in her ear. She closes her eyes and just lets herself exist, the heat from his body seeping through her shirt and into her skin, warming her from head to toe and right down to her bones.

The sound of the toast popping up in the toaster makes them both jump, and Bellamy clears his throat.

“The eggs are almost done, you want to grab juice and butter and stuff for the toast from the fridge?” he suggests. “I think we have at least strawberry jam, I hope that’s OK.”

“It’s fine,” Clarke replies, pressing her lips to his shoulder blade before reluctantly letting him go and opening the fridge.

She finds orange juice and apple juice and brings both to the kitchen table. As Bellamy thought, there’s strawberry jam half-hidden behind a carton of milk, and she also finds an almost empty jar of blueberry jam that she sets out on the table as well.

“Glasses?” she asks, and Bellamy nods at the cupboard above the sink.

She gets glasses and cutlery for both of them and sets all of it on the table before grabbing plates as well, which she leaves by the stove for the eggs. Remembering that Bellamy got ingredients for the dessert last night from one of the cupboards, she opens it and surveys its contents.

“Hey,” she says when she spots a jar of Nutella on the top shelf. “You were holding out on me!”

She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach it, but she manages to wrap her fingers around it without dropping it and holds it out almost accusatory. Bellamy just shrugs and turns back to the eggs.

“That’s technically Miller’s, not that he’ll mind if you have some. I’m not much for Nutella, to be honest,” he says, and Clarke’s jaw drops.

“How can you not like Nutella?” she asks incredulously. “That’s like not liking… kittens or ice cream or world peace!”

He snorts at the last one. “I’m pretty sure that’s a _slight_ exaggeration, but fine – I’ve never actually tried it. We never had Nutella when I was a kid, couldn’t afford it. Octavia used to complain that all her friends had sandwiches with Nutella for lunch in middle school, when it started getting popular, and I had to explain to her why she couldn’t have it… I guess I developed some sort of grudge against it, almost.”

Clarke instantly feels bad and takes the few steps needed to cross the kitchen to where he’s standing by the stove, taking his hand in hers and squeezing. “That sucks, I’m sorry. But seriously, you have to try it. I promise you that the first bite will be… a revelation.”

He rolls his eyes at her exaggeration, but doesn’t argue, just squeezes her hand back before letting go. He grabs the bread basket and moves it to the kitchen table before returning to the stove and dividing the scrambled eggs between the two plates.

“Breakfast is served, your highness,” he says with a bow after setting the plates down on the table.

“You know, this whole Princess thing is getting a little old,” she complains as she sits down.

“Oh please,” he replies. “You love it.”

She shakes her head but he’s right, really. She does kind of like it when he calls her Princess… especially during sex.

Instead of admitting it, though, she busies herself with taking a bite of the eggs.

“These are amazing, maybe even better than Cheryl’s,” she compliments him. “How do you get them so creamy?”

He pours himself some orange juice and holds the carton up to her in question, filling her glass as well when she nods, before answering.

“The trick is to cook them really slowly,” he explains. “Lowest heat, don’t rush it. Some milk or cream is good too, but not really necessary.”

“Huh.” Clarke takes another bite, really savoring the soft, gooey eggs before swallowing. “I guess I’m too impatient.”

Bellamy pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth and raises an eyebrow. “You make scrambled eggs?”

She kicks him lightly under the table. “Yes, actually, I do.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “It’s just, I thought you were completely lost in the kitchen.”

“I am,” she admits with a shrug. “Except when it comes to certain breakfast foods, for some reason – scrambled eggs, omelets, pancakes, hash browns, that I can do.”

“So what I’m hearing is let you make breakfast next time?”

The reference to future breakfasts – and nights – together makes Clarke’s stomach flip and she looks down at her plate to hide her smile.

“Sure, I can do that.”

They eat in silence for a moment, until Bellamy reaches for a slice of toast.

“So, this Nutella thing… do you put butter under it, or just the Nutella?” he asks, looking up at her.

She shrugs. “It’s a matter of taste, I guess. I prefer just Nutella, but Raven can’t eat it without butter. I’m sure there’s an ongoing war about it on, like, Tumblr or Twitter, neither side giving an inch. Try both.”

He nods absentmindedly, buttering half his toast before sticking a knife in the jar of Nutella and spreading it over the entire slice. He then takes a bite out of the side with butter and chews thoughtfully.

“That’s pretty good,” he admits after swallowing. “Not entirely sure about the butter, though.”

“Try without.”

Bellamy turns the toast and takes another bite, nodding appreciatively. “Definitely better. But it’s a little rich for me, I don’t think I would be able to eat more than a slice with this stuff.”

Clarke laughs. “No, one’s usually enough, even for me. But see, you did like it! Aren’t you glad I made you try it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes, but he then takes another, bigger bite of the toast.

Clarke finishes every last bite of her eggs, using her final piece of toast to soak up the last of it, despite the big portion. She hadn’t realized she was actually pretty hungry until she started eating, really, but she supposes it’s not strange considering how many calories she must have burned during last night’s and this morning’s activities.

They don’t linger when they’re done, deciding to just head back to her place and then to the diner, in case there’s a lot of people. She somehow manages to convince Bellamy to let her clean up in the kitchen and puts everything away and loads the dishwasher while he disappears into his bedroom to get dressed. She tries to hide her disappointment when he returns a few minutes later, in jeans and a long sleeved, dark green t-shirt sans glasses. She really likes those…

They spend the drive discussing music, after Bellamy practically stabs at the radio buttons when _Chained to the Rhythm_ comes on.

“What’s wrong with Katy Perry?” Clarke asks. Not that she’s a huge fan herself, but she can listen to the music without having to change the channel.

“Nothing, technically,” he replies. “My sister played her album on repeat nonstop her whole sophomore year of high school, kind of ruined her music for me.”

Clarke files that away as one more interesting fact about Bellamy Blake, another piece of the puzzle she’s trying to put together that will give her the whole picture of him, leaves the radio on the classic rock channel he changed it to and asks about his favorite music. She’s happy to find that they seem to have more or less the same taste, even though he tends to lean towards the harder end of the rock scale, slipping over into metal at times, while she usually places herself somewhere in the middle, with a penchant for early grunge and Britpop.

It takes a while to find parking when they get to her place, but eventually, they come across a man jumping into a car on a side street, and Bellamy immediately pulls into the parking space once it’s open, turning off the engine but not unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Do you want me to wait here, or…?” he asks, turning to her.

She shakes her head. “No, come on up, you can go cat hunting while I change.”

He chuckles, but jumps out of the truck and follows her around the corner and into her building. They ride the elevator up to her floor in comfortable silence, and soon they’re standing in her living room.

“Bas,” Clarke calls. “Come on, be social for once.”

“You named your cat Bass?” Bellamy asks in an amused voice. “Like the fish?”

She rolls her eyes and goes into the kitchen where she finds a bag of cat treats in a cupboard.

“No, it’s short for Bastet, you know, the…”

“Egyptian goddess,” he finishes for her. “That’s cool.”

“She’s a cool kitty.” She opens the bag of treats. “Come on, Bas, I have treats.”

“Can you actually call a cat?” he questions, just as Bastet jumps onto the kitchen counter next to Clarke, letting out a questioning meow. “I guess you can.”

“She’s smart, I swear she understands the word T-R-E-A-T-S,” she says, dropping a couple of treats onto the floor for Bas. “Right, keep Bellamy company while I get changed, OK, Bas?”

The cat, of course, ignores her in favor of the treats on the floor, and she shrugs and hands the bag to Bellamy.

“You can give her a couple more if you want to bribe her to not go hide under the couch again,” she says, reaching up to give him a quick kiss before heading into her bedroom.

She changed into her own top before leaving Bellamy’s place, so she pulls it off and throws it into the hamper before going into the walk-in closet. After some rummaging around, she finds a soft cashmere sweater in a deep ocean blue, with a high collar that covers the love bite on her neck. She pulls it on before shimmying out of her leggings and stepping into a pair of jeans instead.

Satisfied with her outfit, she heads into the bathroom where she quickly applies a tiny bit of make-up, just enough to make her feel human, and pulls her hair into a messy bun – she doesn’t have the energy to do anything more elaborate with it.

When she returns to the living room, Bellamy’s sitting on the couch, Bastet curled up next to him, purring as he scratches behind her ears.

“Looks like you have a new fan,” she notes, and he looks up.

“She has a soft spot for treats and ear rubs,” he says, giving her an appreciative once-over. “That was quick.”

She shrugs. “Sorry to put a long time stereotype to death, but not all women take ages getting ready.”

“I grew up with a sister who could spend an hour in the bathroom before school in the morning at the age of thirteen, so you can see why I’m impressed when you come out looking like _that_ after just five minutes.”

She soaks up the half-spoken compliment. “Well, teenage girls are a breed of their own, I’m not sure that’s a fair comparison.”

Bellamy laughs at that. “Maybe you’re right. Ready to head out again?”

“Yup, just need to grab my charger, my phone was at seventeen percent earlier, it won’t survive until I get off work later.”

He gives Bastet one final scratch and then gets up from the couch, letting Clarke lead the way around the kitchen to her desk, where she digs her spare charger out of a drawer, before they leave.

Cheryl’s is packed, as usual on Sundays, but two stools by the counter are free and they quickly claim them. The waiter behind the counter immediately takes their order, and they both opt for sandwiches today – Clarke a Heidi (boiled eggs, avocado, greens, tomatoes, sprouts and herbed vinegar) and Bellamy a Bruce (grilled chicken, greens, tomatoes and chipotle mayo).

He helps her off with her jacket, hanging it and his own on a hook underneath the counter. His hand lingers on her back, sliding down and around her waist, and she leans lightly against him, careful not to jostle the stool too much.

“God, this sweater’s like touching a cloud,” he says after a moment.

“Mmm, that’s cashmere, super soft,” she agrees. “And bonus – high neck.”

“Why’s that a bonus?”

Clarke glances around to make sure no one’s paying too much attention to them, before pulling the neck down to reveal the hickey.

Bellamy winces. “Sorry about that.”

She leans into him, closing her eyes for a moment and breathing him in. She feels his fingers flex against her side and he tightens his hold on her. “I don’t mind, I’m pretty sure I returned the favor. Still, don’t want the three-to-five-year-olds to come home from story time asking why the nice lady reading had a big bruise on her neck, you know.”

“Yeah, might not make the best impression,” he agrees with a chuckle.

“Nope. And the kids at my homework session were already teasing me on Wednesday when they somehow figured out that I had a date… need to nip that in the bud.”

“Mmm, I promise I’ll try to keep any marks contained to places that can be more easily hidden in the future,” he murmurs in her ear, low enough none of the other patrons hear him. Clarke feels her heartrate pick up at his words and retaliates by sliding her hand along his thigh and squeezing lightly. She gets a sharp breath in return. “Behave.”

“Or what?” she retorts, meeting his eyes with a challenging smirk.

Bellamy’s eyes narrow slightly and she feels his thumb slide higher, grazing her breast through her sweater and bra, but it’s not like he can do much more without drawing attention to them… or getting them kicked out. Which might have been worth it if they were somewhere else, but she really likes Cheryl’s.

At that moment, two glasses are put down on the counter in front of them, followed by their sandwiches, and he pulls his arm from around her seemingly reluctantly.

“How about we table that for later?” he suggests, giving her one last, long look. The heat in his gaze makes her stomach swoop.

“I’ll definitely hold you to that.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up a little. “Good.”

Clarke picks up their music conversation from the car earlier as they eat, which turns into one about sports – Bellamy still holds onto his ‘nerd background’ (his own words, she’s not sure she believes him without some sort of proof) and refuses to get into sports on principle, even though he and Miller play both Fifa 18 and Madden NFL on Miller’s PS4, while Clarke loves basketball and immediately vows to drag him along to the Knicks next home game, because ‘quite frankly, it should be a requirement to go to at least one of their games before you’re even allowed to call yourself a New Yorker’. This somehow leads them into the topic of politics, where she’s relieved to find that they share most opinions.

By the time they’ve finished their sandwiches, it’s already after two.

“Crap, I should probably get going,” Clarke says when she spots the time on the TV behind the counter, which is turned to CNN. “I need to pick out which books I’m reading today before the kids arrive.”

“Oh,” Bellamy replies, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, but he hands over her jacket. “Yeah, come on.”

They parked a few streets over, and he should be heading in the opposite direction to Clarke, but when they step out onto the sidewalk, he turns in the direction of the library.

“I’ll walk you,” he says and she smiles, looping her arm through his.

“So…” she starts after a minute or so. “Lots of studying to get done today?”

He shrugs. “Not a lot, just a paper due tomorrow. The topic’s not much fun – technical innovations that changed the textile industry in the 18th century – but it’s half finished, so I should be able to wrap it up in a couple of hours. I hope.”

“So that’s your Sunday plans?”

“And I promised to pick up Miller and Jackson from the airport later,” he adds. “They’re flying into La Guardia at six thirty, so hopefully it won’t take all evening. At least I don’t have to cross the whole city to get to Newark.”

“Right.” They continue in silence.

“How about you?” Bellamy then asks. “Work and then what?”

“Going to the movies with Raven at six,” Clarke says. She is meeting Raven, but not for a movie – she has a Transfer at six and another a little before eight, both in Greenwich Village, and she and Raven have plans to grab a coffee in between so Clarke doesn’t have to wander around for two hours with nothing to do.

“That sounds fun. What are you seeing?”

She racks her brain for a moment, not wanting to mention some movie she hasn’t seen in case he has seen it and wants to talk about it the next time they (hopefully) see each other. But she and Raven and Harper did go to the movies last weekend and saw _Bohemian Rhapsody_ , so she goes with that one.

“Haven’t seen it but I heard it’s supposed to be good,” Bellamy says when she’s told him the name of it.

Personally, she loved the movie, and not just because she was a huge Queen fan back when they were active. “I’ll let you know.”

They’ve reached the library by now, and Clarke glances at her watch. Twenty minutes left, she doesn’t have to run right away.

If she’s reading him right – and she’s fairly sure she is – they’ve both been circling around what they really want to ask during the last few minutes, so she decides to just jump in. It feels like it’s her move to make.

“I should be home by nine or so,” she says. “You know, if you’re done with your paper by then and want to… I don’t know, come over or something. Watch a movie, have a late dinner…”

God, she sounds like a teenage girl with her first crush from one of those annoying high school movies…

But then Bellamy smiles and she feels warm all over. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, unless it’ll mess up your morning tomorrow, getting to work and stuff.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks something. “OK, so the train takes forty minutes from my station, plus a five minute walk to the station, and the train from York Street takes six minutes… how long would you say it takes to get there from your place?”

She thinks about it for a moment. “Around five minutes too, probably. So you’d be saving at least half an hour.”

“Yeah, that’s the draw here, a shorter commute, not getting to spend more time with you,” he says with a smirk, and Clarke punches him lightly in the shoulder.

“Good to know where I rank.”

He chuckles and puts his phone away again. “So, yeah… why don’t you let me know when you’re on your way home? I can pick up takeout on the way, unless you and Raven are grabbing dinner too?”

She’s planning some sort of late second lunch/early dinner before her first Transfer and just something lighter later, so she should be hungry enough by nine. “Nope, just the movie.”

“OK, great.” Bellamy nods, a smile still playing on his face. “I’ll let you go, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, it seems like he’s about to turn away, but then he swoops down and kisses her, his arms going around her to pull her tight against him.

“OK, now I’m going,” he says when he pulls away and Clarke laughs as she tries to catch her breath.

“OK. Good luck studying,” she tells him. “Oh, and there’s a parking garage in my building, one of the spaces is mine but I never use it. I’ll text you how to get there, it’s on one of the side streets, and the code for the door so you don’t have to park on the street.”

“Great. Now stop stalling and go read to the kids!”

She stays there watching him as he walks away, still feeling the ghost of his lips against hers. At the street, he turns back just as the light turns green, and raises his hand in an almost wave. She returns it, and he turns away again, joining the others crossing the street. Clarke finally turns away too, opening the door and entering the library.

God, she as it bad.


	13. Every Dream Inside My Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we’re still basically on The Morning After… or the day after, I guess. We’ll be picking up the pace a little in the next chapter, but for now, I hope you enjoy some Clarke/Raven banter and a laid back second date. And if you think kiwi allergy is not a thing, I can assure you it is – I’m allergic to it myself, which I didn’t realize until my early twenties when I was talking to a friend and said something about how kiwi “itches” when you eat it, and she was like “no, it doesn’t, you’re probably allergic”… so it turned out my mom had been unknowingly trying to poison me my entire childhood, giving me and my sister a kiwi to share for breakfast every day!
> 
> Right, enough of the personal anecdotes – on with the story! Chapter title from “This Years Love”, possibly my favorite David Gray song. I don’t own anything relating to The 100, as usual
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings (if you want)

Clarke thinks she does pretty well not getting distracted during her story time at the library that afternoon. She even answers random questions and spends five minutes after the session in a serious discussion about one of the books she read with her favorite (she knows she shouldn’t have favorites, but she’s only human) listener, a little boy named Ethan who always has a million questions.

Eventually, though, Ethan’s mom manages to lure him away with the promise of stopping for ice cream on the way home, and Clarke quickly heads out. She has almost an hour and a half before she needs to be in Greenwich and the train shouldn’t take long, but she wants to get home and clean up her bedroom a little, maybe get out the vacuum (and scare Bas half to death in the process), just generally make sure the place is date friendly.

She stops on the way to buy some condoms – since she doesn’t bring hook-ups home, she normally doesn’t have any – and grabs some beer at the same time. She’s no expert, but she finds a type that Zeke sometimes buys and that she likes herself, so hopefully Bellamy will approve too. At the register, she also grabs a toothbrush since she, unlike Bellamy, apparently, doesn’t keep a stash of those in her bathroom cabinet.

When she gets home, she quickly tosses the few pieces of clothing that have ended up on the floor in her bedroom over the last couple of days into the hamper, changes the sheets, gives the bathroom a quick clean while she’s at it, and then brings the vacuum out. Bas gives her the evil eye from her perch high up on one of the bookshelves, and refuses to come down even when she’s done.

The first Transfer is run of the mill – ninety-five-year-old Hester Jones, resident at a nursing home that looks very nice from the outside. She’s had an interesting life, her memories ranging from happy moments like her own birthdays, weddings of friends’ and siblings’, baptisms for nieces and nephews and eventually great-nieces and great-nephews, to amazing experiences in what Clarke thinks must be the rainforest in the Amazon.

A pretty cool woman, she concludes.

Raven’s waiting for her when she pushes the door open to the coffee shop on University Place where they’d agreed to meet.

“Finally!” she exclaims.

Clarke raises an eyebrow and looks at the clock above Raven’s head.

“I told you I had a Transfer down on Houston Street at six, it’s not even half past. You do know we don’t have teleporting abilities, right?”

“Oh.” Raven glances at the clock too. “Sorry, I assumed you’d be late because you were busy sexting Loverboy or something, so I took out my annoyance in advance.”

OK, so she _did_ text Bellamy on the walk here… but she can multi-task. It didn’t delay her, and it was definitely not sexting.

“Well, I would appreciate if you wait until I actually do something to annoy you before you’re annoyed with me, just for future reference.”

“Yeah, yeah, sit,” Raven orders. “I know you have to run in, like, an hour, and I want all the dirt on your hot date last night.”

“You know,” Clarke starts as she takes the chair across from her friend, “I don’t think it’s fair of you to rib me about him just to turn around and want to hear everything.”

“Life’s not fair, babe,” Raven replies with a shrug. “You should have gotten used to that by now.”

Clarke sighs, but she does tell Raven _almost_ everything about last night and today. The other girl has no problem sharing – in Clarke’s opinion – way too intimate details about her own sex life now and then, but Clarke just doesn’t feel comfortable revealing every little thing. She gives her friend the broad strokes, and admits that, yes, the sex was amazing, better than she’s had in a long time, when pressed. But that’s it, that’s where she draws the line, no matter how much Raven wheedles her to reveal more.

She’s almost relieved when her phone beeps, announcing that she has thirty minutes until her next Transfer, and she has to leave.

This one goes off without a hitch too, and Clarke’s stepping onto the train a few minutes after eight. She texts Bellamy as it leaves Canal Street.

**On my way home :-)**

**Should be 30 min tops**

The speech bubble pops up and his reply comes a moment later.

_OK, I’ll head out too :-)_

_What are you in the mood for?_

She’s sorely tempted to just text back **you** , possibly influenced by Raven’s many innuendos during their hour long talk, but she resists.

**Honestly, I’m totally craving  
pizza from Juliana’s, that OK?**

_Of course, I’ve never tried it  
but I’ve heard it’s the best  
in Brooklyn._

**Best in NY, trust me ;-)**

**But it’s out of your way, so I  
can just get it delivered?**

_Sounds good._

**Anything you don’t eat?  
Allergies? Or anything special  
you want?**

_Well, I’m allergic to kiwi, but  
I don’t think that’s relevant…_

**No, ew, kiwi on pizza?**

**Nothing else?**

_Nope, I’m good with what  
you’re having, as long as it’s  
not liver or something :-/_

**Yes, my favorite pizza toppings  
are liver and tripe :-P**

_I knew it ;-)_

**I usually just get extra mozzarella,  
mushrooms, onions and prosciutto**

He sends a thumbs up to that.

**OK, I’ll order, it should get here  
around the same time as you ;-)**

_Great :-) getting in the car now_

_See you soon :-*_

She sends a kiss back before calling the pizza order in, adding a couple of cannoli just because they’re delicious.

When she gets home, Bas has finally deigned to come down from the bookcase. She’s curled up on the couch, seemingly fast asleep, but when Clarke drops her phone on the coffee table, she opens one eye and gives her a suspicious look.

“Don’t worry, the vacuum’s not coming out again today,” Clarke assures her.

Bas still keeps one eye on her as she darts around the apartment, lighting a couple of (cat friendly) candles to set the mood and clearing off the coffee table.

When she’s happy with the space, she goes into the bathroom to take a quick look in the mirror. The make-up she applied earlier still looks fine, and she doesn’t see the point in changing, but she lets her hair out, detangling the knots with her fingers. Since it’s been in a bun for so long, her natural curls are intensified.

She’s just put her bottle of body mist back into the bathroom cabinet when there’s a knock on the door.

She knows it’ll be him, but when she sees Bellamy on the other side of the door, her stomach still does a little swoop. He has a duffel bag over one shoulder and a six-pack in his hand. Clarke can’t help but laugh when she realizes that it’s the same kind that she bought earlier.

“What?” he asks with a small frown.

“Great minds think alike, I guess,” she says, taking the beer from him. “I picked up a six-pack of this earlier, too.”

“Ah.” He closes the door behind him and drops his bag on the floor before reaching for her hand and pulling her closer. “Hey.”

She can’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Hey.”

He leans down for a quick kiss before straightening up again and pulling his jacket off, revealing a casual, dark grey shirt instead of the t-shirt he put on this morning. He hangs the jacket on one of the hooks under the coat rack and picks up the duffel bag again.

“Clothes for work,” he explains. “Didn’t feel like blinding you with my fluorescent uniform tonight. Brought the stuff I’ll need for school tomorrow too, so I won’t have to stop at home before class.”

“Great, just drop that in the bedroom.”

He heads towards the bedrooms while Clarke takes a right into the kitchen, putting the beer in the fridge and taking out her six-pack, which is nice and cold by now.

“The food should be here in ten minutes or so,” she says when she hears him leave the bedroom, putting the beer down on the kitchen counter. “You want to find something to watch on Netflix while we wait?”

She feels Bellamy come up behind her, and immediately, her heartrate quickens. He sweeps her hair over her shoulder, exposing the side of her neck, before placing one hand against the counter on either side of her, effectively caging her in. Not that she wants to get away from him…

“We could do that,” he agrees, voice low, before placing a kiss just below her ear. “Or…”

Clarke turns in the circle of his arms, leaning back on her elbows against the counter. “What, a quickie before the pizza guy gets here?”

He chuckles at that, stepping closer so they’re just barely an inch apart. “Trust me, Princess – we’re going to need more than ten minutes for _that_.”

The words send shivers of anticipation through her and she closes the last of the distance between them, pulling him down for a kiss that quickly turns dirty. Her fingers curl into his hair, holding him to her, as his hands slide under her sweater and up her back, warm and rough.

The counter is digging into her back, but she barely notices it, her entire being focused on Bellamy, his lips on hers, his body pressed against her, the scent that she’s getting used to surrounding her.

She lets the feeling fill her mind, pushing everything else aside, and when there’s another knock on the door, it feels like it can’t have been more than a few minutes.

They pull apart, blinking at each other for a moment, both breathing hard. Then there’s another knock on the door and Bellamy takes a step back, clearing his throat.

“Food’s here,” he says, unnecessarily, and Clarke can’t help the laugh that escapes her.

“No kidding.”

She steps around him, yelping when he pinches her side, and grabs some money from her purse on her way to the door.

The delivery guy, a bored looking boy that can’t be older than eighteen, hands over the pizza box and paper bag with the cannoli and takes her money without more than a ‘that’ll be 54 bucks’.

“Well, it definitely _smells_ amazing,” Bellamy notes when she returns with the food. He’s taken a seat on the couch, Bas stretched out next to him.

“Just wait until you taste it – even better,” Clarke promises, grabbing the beer from the counter and placing both that and the food on the coffee table. “I would recommend using your fingers, but I can get you a plate and cutlery if you want.”

“Nah,” he replies, opening the box and peeking inside. “But maybe bring a kitchen roll? This could get messy.”

She does before flopping down on the couch next to him and grabbing the remote.

“I was thinking of starting _Parks and Rec_ from the beginning,” she says, starting up Netflix. “Does that work or do you want to watch a movie or something else?”

“That’s fine,” he replies, opening a bottle of beer for each of them before grabbing the first slice.

“Great.” She starts the first episode before grabbing a slice of her own.

“OK, yeah, this is really good,” Bellamy admits a little later.

“Told you.”

“We usually order from Rosa’s in Maspeth, have you been there?”

Clarke shakes her head and swallows the mouthful of beer before answering. “Nope.”

“We’ll have to try it next time we’re in my neck of the woods then. I’d say it’s basically on par with this, but I might be biased.”

By the time the pizza’s gone (Bas is still cleaning her paws after Bellamy caved under her pleading gaze ten minutes ago and gave her a few pieces of prosciutto) the third episode has just started and Clarke is finishing off her second beer.

“OK, I’ve been dying to ask,” Bellamy starts, tossing the used paper towels into the now empty pizza box and closing it. “What’s in the paper bag?”

She grabs the bag and holds it open for him. “Dessert.”

He gives her a long look. “Not the kind of dessert I was hoping for.”

It’s such a cliché thing to say that she can’t resist rolling her eyes. “Keep it in your pants, Casanova, there’s plenty of time for that later.”

He laughs, sticking his hand in the bag. “I guess I’ll have to settle for this for now then.”

She just shakes her head and accepts the cannoli he hands her.

“You might regret those words, the cannoli from Juliana’s are almost more famous than their pizza and the best in the city, I promise.”

He eyes the cannoli for a moment before taking a big bite.

“OK, yeah, this time I have to agree with you. These are amazing.”

“Right?” She takes a bite of her own, closing her eyes as she chews and swallows. “Delicious.”

“Best thing you’ve had in your mouth all night?” Bellamy asks, voice seemingly innocent.

She gives him a look through narrowed eyes, suspicious of where he’s going with that question. “Maybe…”

The corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk. “Night’s still young.”

Clarke can’t help but snort out a laugh at that. “God, where do you get these?” she asks. “Cheesy pick-up lines 101?”

“What, I need to pick you up?”

She elbows him in the side. “You’re lucky you don’t.”

Bellamy just laughs, popping the last piece of the cannoli in his mouth, and she follows suit.

“Let me just get rid of this stuff, back in a sec.”

Clarke gets up from the couch and grabs the pizza box, the bag the cannoli were in and the roll of paper towels and rounds the kitchen counter. She stuffs the trash in the trash can and puts the paper towels back on the counter.

“Hey, when do you need to get up tomorrow?” she asks over her shoulder. “I can program the coffee maker so it’ll start on its own, that way the coffee will be waiting for you.”

“Probably seven?” he replies. “Just need a quick shower, really.”

Clarke turns to give him a frown. “No breakfast?”

He shrugs. “I can’t eat first thing in the morning, I usually grab something about an hour into my shift. I can pick up coffee on the way too, you don’t have to go to any trouble on my account.”

“Don’t be silly, it’ll take me, like thirty seconds.” She turns back to the coffee maker and loads it with coffee powder and water, punching a few buttons to get it to turn on at seven the next morning. “There we go, all set for some fresh coffee goodness in the morning.”

When she gets back to the couch again, Bellamy has moved to one of the wide chaises and stretched out a little more, one arm along the back of the couch. She settles in next to him, stretching her legs out as well, and his arm comes down around her shoulders.

“Thanks, Princess.”

“Of course.”

Bas jumps onto the couch on his other side, immediately flopping onto her back and stretching her legs in four different directions.

Bellamy gives Clarke a questioning look. “Is this a trap?”

She chuckles but shakes her head. “Nope, Bas loves belly rubs. She’s the exception of the rule.”

“So I won’t lose a hand if I fall for it?”

To demonstrate her point, she leans across him and runs her nails up and down Bastet’s belly. Loud purring immediately fills the room.

“Huh,” Bellamy notes when she straightens up again. His arm slides lower, wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer, while he takes over the petting of Bas with his other hand. “That’s a first. Our neighbor had a cat that used to climb the fire escape up to our floor and howl until we let it into the apartment, the one time I actually tried to pet it like this I ended up going to the ER to get a tetanus shot.”

“Poor baby.”

Clarke settles in against him, sliding down a little more on the couch to get comfortable, so that they’re both half-lying on the chaise, and leans her head back against his shoulder.

She tries to follow the plot, really, but she’s failing miserably. Bellamy keeps trailing his fingers up and down her arm, and even though she’s still wearing the long sleeved, high neck cashmere sweater, the touch sends sparks through her. Bas decides she’s had enough belly rubs after a few minutes and jumps off the couch, and then he moves his other hand to Clarke’s leg, thumb rubbing circles on her thigh, and it’s frankly extremely distracting.

She glances up at him, but his eyes are trained on the TV and he seems completely unaffected. Well… two can play that game.

Under the pretense of checking her phone on the coffee table – not that she needs to – Clarke sits up straight for a moment, and when she leans back, she shifts just slightly, so her arm’s not squished between them but resting over his stomach. This way, her hand lands naturally on his leg. There’s no discernable reaction, and she just lets it rest there for a moment, before running her nails up and down once.

This time, she feels Bellamy tense against her, the hand on her leg stilling and his fingers digging into her arm just slightly.

“Something wrong?” she asks innocently, and he coughs once.

“Nope, all good.”

They settle in again, neither of them moving their hands but both keeping perfectly still. Then Bellamy ups the ante and slides his hand down her leg, to her knee, before running it back up, this time sliding his fingers around to the inside of her thigh. When his thumb grazes the seam at her crotch just briefly, Clarke can’t help but suck in a sharp breath.

His hand stills, just half an inch or so further down on her thigh. “You OK?”

She has to swallow before she can answer, and even then she can tell that her voice is a little strained. “Just great.”

He hums and slides his hand back down. She grinds her teeth together to not let on that he’s really getting to her and tries to figure out how to turn the tables on him again.

She manages to keep her breathing more or less normal as he continues trailing his fingers up and down her inner thigh. The next time he goes a little too far north, she retaliates by lifting her hand to interlace with his against her shoulder. He squeezes her fingers and she squeezes back before moving hers a little to be able to wrap her thumb and index finger around his middle finger, moving them back and forth slowly. To really drive the point home, she licks her lips and then bites the bottom one.

Before she can react, she’s on her back on the couch, Bellamy looming above her.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy, Princess?” he asks before leaning down to nose at her throat.

She tilts her head to give him better access and feels his finger slip inside the neck of her sweater, pulling it down so he can place a kiss on the hickey he left there this morning.

“You started it,” she replies, reaching up to undo the first button in his shirt.

“I did,” he admits, running a hand up her side and squeezing her breast lightly. “Wanted to see how long it would take for you to break.”

Clarke lets out a chuckle at that, which quickly turns into a moan when he grinds his hips against hers.

“You broke first,” she notes breathlessly, moving on to the second button. “So I win.”

He lifts his head, dark eyes locking with hers. “I’m OK with that.”

His mouth descends on hers and she eagerly returns the kiss, opening up for him when he traces the seam of her lips with his tongue. She continues her work on his shirt, getting all the buttons she can undone before sliding her hands down his chest and then dragging her nails up his stomach.

Bellamy groans into her mouth and slips a hand under her sweater, up her stomach to her breast, where he pushes her bra to the side and pinches her nipple lightly. She bucks against him, relishing the feeling of his hardening dick against her, even if it is through double layers of denim and cotton. But no clothes at all would be better, so she moves her attention to the button of his pants and quickly gets that and the fly undone, impatiently pushing the pants down his hips.

She can’t get them further than to mid-thigh using her hands, though, so she switches to her feet instead, getting the pants to his knees, which are of course pressed against the couch. Bellamy breaks the kiss and raises an eyebrow at her.

“Eager, Princess?”

“Shut up.”

Clarke takes the opportunity to push his shirt off his shoulders and he shrugs out of it completely, tossing it on the couch next to them. He somehow manages to get his jeans off the rest of the way too, leaving him in only his boxers above her.

“Someone’s overdressed,” he notes, leaning down to kiss her again.

She feels his hand at the button of her own jeans, popping it open and sliding the zipper down. She lifts her hips a little, to help him get them off, but instead he slips a hand into her underwear. She gasps into his mouth when he pauses at her clit, circling the nub with one finger briefly before continuing.

A moment later, Bellamy pushes one finger inside her, and her hips jerk against his hand of their own accord. As he sets an infuriatingly slow pace, she buries her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp in time with his finger moving inside her.

When he presses his thumb against her clit, she finally breaks the kiss.

“Fuck…”

He chuckles against her ear. “Soon, baby.”

Clarke lets out a breathless laugh too, lifting her hips a little more next time his finger sinks deeper into her, and manages to get her jeans off her hips. He realizes what she’s trying to do and pushes himself off her, slipping his finger out of her and making her whine in protest, before he pulls her jeans off. He trails kisses up her thigh, placing one against her sex, through the panties she’s still wearing, before crawling up her body again.

She hooks her heels behind his thighs and pulls him down on top of her. “Better.”

Bellamy hums in agreement before moving his hips a little so she feels him right at her entrance, two thin layers the only thing separating them. He shifts slightly, his length rubbing against her clit, and she squeezes her eyes shut against the intense feeling.

A moment later, she feels his hand slide down her thigh and hook just above her knee, pulling her leg up. She takes the hint and wraps both legs around his waist at the same time as his hands close around her waist, and the next thing she knows, they’re both upright.

Instinctively, Clarke wraps her arms tightly around his neck. “You’re lucky you didn’t drop me!”

Bellamy just chuckles. “I know what I’m doing, Princess, trust me.”

He pushes the hem of her sweater up, enough so he can bend down and run his tongue over her breast, along the edge of her bra. His hands move down to wrap around her waist again, and she releases her grip on him to pull the sweater over her head. He hums happily, trailing wet kisses up her chest, nipping at her collar bone.

Clarke manages to shift her hips a little, grinding against him and getting a groan in return.

“Bed,” she orders, running a hand down his back and up again, her nails scraping against his spine. “Now.”

Bellamy pulls away from her with a chuckle. “Bossy Princess.”

She doesn’t reply, just pulls him in for a kiss.

He does heed her request, though, maneuvering them around the couch in the direction of her bedroom. She keeps one arm wrapped around him while she uses the other to unhook her bra behind her back. The garment remains in place though, squished between their bodies for now.

Bellamy doesn’t stop until his legs hit the side of her bed, and then he leans forward to put her down gently on the mattress. She scoots backwards so he can join her, pulling her bra off completely and throwing it in the general direction of the hamper.

She’s stretched out sideways over the bed, and for a moment the thought that she’s glad she went for the grand king size, despite not technically needing the extra space herself, flashes through her mind.

Then he’s on top of her, pushing her panties down just enough so he can slide two fingers inside her easily. At the same time, his mouth closes around her nipple, and Clarke lets out a loud moan.

She tries to pull her leg up, so she can get better purchase and push back against his hand, but that makes her panties slide up her leg. Bellamy pulls away from her impatiently, removing them completely, and before he has a chance to return to his previous position, she pushes him onto his back and straddles him on the bed, grinding down on him and probably soaking the boxers that he’s still wearing.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, his hands finding her hips and his fingers digging into the flesh.

Remembering his earlier teasing, Clarke leans in close, teeth almost grazing his ear. “Soon, baby.”

He slides one hand into her hair and tugs her up until he can claim her lips in an almost aggressive kiss, teeth and lips and tongues clashing together without much coordination for a moment, before he pulls her bottom lip into his mouth, biting down lightly and drawing a gasp from her. Bellamy releases her lip and slows the kiss down, the hand that was buried in her hair trailing down her throat and chest to palm her breast before he tweaks her nipple, making her arch into his touch.

She feels his other hand leave her hip and hears the rustle of fabric, and when she slides her hips against his again, she feels his hard length against her core, nothing between them finally. Clarke grinds down on him again, angling her hips a little so the head rubs against her clit, sending sparks of pleasure through her, and breaks the kiss to gasp for air.

Part of her wants to move this along, get him inside her, but the other part wants to stay right here, because the slide of his erection against her clit is bringing her closer and closer to the edge and she just wants to…

“Come on, Princess,” Bellamy murmurs against her throat. “I’ve got you, just let go.”

The hand covering her breast slides down, pressing against the small of her back to pull her tighter against him, and he noses at her chin to get her to move. She does, arching her back so he can reach her breast, and the next time she grinds down on him, he pulls a nipple into his mouth at the same time as he bucks up against her, increasing the pressure on her clit and that’s it. Clarke soars over the edge, fingers closing around the bedspread underneath him, a long, high-pitched whine that she vaguely realizes must be coming from her filling the air.

When she finally comes down, Bellamy’s still beneath her, hands running up and down her sides and lips pressed to her temple. She pulls in a ragged breath. “God, that was…”

He chuckles, a rumble that goes through both of them, and squeezes her hip. “I think that was a first for me, honestly, but fuck, babe, that was hot.”

“Yeah?”

Clarke pushes herself up on an elbow before leaning down to kiss him, moving her hips against his and finding him just as hard as a few minutes ago. She jumps a little as his length brushes against her clit, still sensitive from her orgasm, and moves up a few inches, so he’s just at her opening. What she really wants to do is just push down, pull him deep inside her, but she manages to resist.

Bellamy breaks the kiss after a few minutes. “There are condoms in my bag, outside pocket,” he tells her and she nods, kissing him once more before reluctantly getting up.

Instead of his bag, though, she opens the drawer in her nightstand and grabs the box of condoms she picked up earlier, pulling out one and climbing back on the bed, settling against his thighs.

He raises an eyebrow. “You just happened to have the kind of condoms I prefer?”

She shrugs, opening the foil packet and wrapping her fingers around him, smiling when he jerks into her hand a little. “Didn’t have any, so I had to pick some up anyway, figured I might as well get these,” she says before slowly rolling the condom on, eyes intent on his the whole time. “Are you complaining?”

He immediately shakes his head. “Fuck, no. Now come here.”

Clarke obediently crawls up his body until she’s back in the position she was in a moment ago. This time, when she feels his dick at her entrance, she shifts her hips a little to pull him inside her at the same time as he thrusts up. He pushes inside her with a bit more force than either of them had anticipated, and she squeezes her eyes closed at the feeling, just this side of painful, as he bottoms out.

“Oh fuck,” she breathes shakily.

“OK?” Bellamy mumbles, a hint of worry in his tone, and she nods quickly.

“God, yes, don’t stop.”

His arm comes up to wrap around her waist and then she’s on her back with him on top of her. She feels his teeth graze her throat and then his mouth at her ear. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He pulls out of her slowly before pushing back in with a snap of his hips, making her cry out.

“Good?”

Instead of replying, she pulls him down for a kiss and bends her legs, pushing up against him. He takes the hint and keeps moving, setting a fast pace, thrusts harder and hands rougher against her skin than last night or this morning, but exactly what she wants right now. It’s not long before she feels him tense, both above her and inside her, and she squeezes her inner muscles to show him that it’s OK to let go. He surprises her, though, grinding his pelvic bone against her clit on his final thrust, and just as she feels him start pulsing inside her, she’s pushed over the edge for a second time.

He collapses on top of her, his weight pushing her into the mattress, but Clarke kind of likes it, feeling him pressed against her, inside her, around her… too soon, though, he pulls out of her before rolling them so he’s on his back and she’s on top instead.

She sighs and buries her face against his throat, the stubble there a little scratchy against her skin.

“You OK?” Bellamy asks quietly after a moment, pressing a kiss against the top of her head.

She hums. “Way better than OK.”

“You sure? I wasn’t too… rough?”

Hearing the hesitation in his voice, she pushes herself up a little so she can meet his eyes. “You want to know a secret?” she asks, and he nods. “Sometimes I like it a little rough.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk. “Is that so?”

Clarke nods. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

She kisses him before pushing off him completely and getting to her feet. “Please do.”

She feels his eyes on her as she pads into the bathroom, pushing the door almost closed behind her but not completely. She brushes her teeth, washes her make-up off and pees before leaving the room again.

Bellamy hasn’t moved in the time she’s been gone, still stretched out the wrong way on the bed. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“You might want to turn ninety degrees or so,” she suggests, moving to the side of the bed that she usually sleeps on. “Unless you have something against pillows.”

He pushes himself into a sitting position and pulls her to him, tilting his head up for a kiss. She happily obliges.

“I was getting to that,” he says when she pulls back, and she rolls her eyes.

“There’s a toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom,” she tells him. “Though my selection isn’t as good as yours.”

He gets up with a chuckle. “I think I’ll live.”

He disappears into the bathroom and Clarke strips the bedspread off before pausing in front of the door to the walk-in closet. She usually wears a tank top and shorts to bed, but she doesn’t particularly want to put on any clothes right now… instead, she crawls into bed, pulling the comforter up enough so it covers her breasts, and turns on the light on the nightstand.

Bellamy returns a few minutes later, the fresh scent of her toothpaste hitting her when he gets into the bed next to her. He scoots closer, sliding an arm around her waist and pulls her to him, so her back’s against his front.

“Hmm…” He buries his nose against her neck. “You always sleep in the nude?”

“Nope,” she replies, enjoying feeling his naked body pressed against hers. “You mind?”

She feels more than hears the chuckle he lets out, a puff of warm air against her neck. “Definitely not.”

Clarke reaches out to grab the remote off the nightstand, pushing the button to close the blinds on the windows facing the building across the street.

“Fancy,” Bellamy notes as they appear at the top of the windows and start sliding down.

“I usually don’t close the ones facing the river, especially not in the winter,” she says. “I can if you want?”

“No, that’s fine, not like anyone can see in or anything.”

She puts the remote down again, turns off the light and settles into her pillows.

“You have work tomorrow?” he asks after a moment.

She has a Transfer at eleven, but he’ll be at work then so she doesn’t have to come up with an excuse for that.

“Yeah, homework session at three.”

Bellamy hums behind her. “I need to leave for my class at six thirty, probably, will you be back in time to let me in? I can always put my stuff in the car.”

The homework session runs to five and unlike the story times, the kids are usually out the door on the dot.

“I should be back at five thirty at the latest,” she says.

“OK, that works,” he replies.

“When do you get off work?”

“Four, but I can grab a coffee or something while I wait, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s a spare key in the bowl on the table by the door, just take that,” she tells him.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. You have to lock up when you leave anyway, I don’t really want to sleep with the front door unlocked.” Suddenly, she realizes what it might sound like in his ears and continues. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

His arm around her waist tightens. “No, that’s not… OK.”

She relaxes again. “OK. Goodnight.”

His lips brush against her shoulder. “Night, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	14. I Just Want to Be There When the Morning Light Explodes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, we’re picking up the pace a little in this chapter. To me, the story is split into four different parts (I’m not going to say which these parts are, since it’ll give away too much of the plot going forward!) and this chapter is sort of the bridge between part 1 and part 2
> 
> As usual, I don’t own The 100 or anything relating to it
> 
> Chapter title from “Love You ‘till the End” by The Pogues
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Clarke’s not sure what wakes her the next morning, the buzz of Bellamy’s alarm going off or the sudden and not at all pleasant lack of a warm body behind her.

She rolls over, finding him sitting on the bed with his phone in his hand.

“Morning,” she greets him, voice gravelly with sleep.

He turns to her with a frown. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“The price of my forgiveness is a good morning kiss.”

He rolls his eyes but does turn around all the way to be able to lean down and kiss her. When she wraps an arm around his neck to pull him closer, though, he gently disentangles her hand and moves back.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t love to get back in bed with you,” he says when she pouts a little. “Trust me. But if I do, there’s no way I’m getting up in time to make it to work.”

Clarke flops dramatically onto her back again.

“Fine, leave me here unsatisfied…”

Bellamy just laughs. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Go back to sleep.”

She sighs and watches as he crosses the room and disappears into the bathroom, and a moment later, she hears the shower turn on. She burrows into the bed again, pulling the comforter up to her chin and burying her nose in his pillow to get a lungful of his scent, and closes her eyes.

She doesn’t fall back asleep, though, instead follows his movements on the other side of the wall based on the sounds – the shower continues for another few minutes, then the water turns off and the shower door slides open before there’s silence for a few minutes during which she assumes he’s toweling off. When Bellamy emerges from the bathroom, she opens her eyes and takes him in, a towel around his hips and a few water drops still glistening here and there on his chest and shoulders.

“I thought you were going back to sleep,” he notes, bending down over his duffel bag and unzipping it.

“But then I’d miss the show,” Clarke replies with a still sleepy smirk.

He straightens up, clothes in one hand, and raises his eyebrow at her for a moment before dropping the towel to the floor. She lets her eyes run all the way to his toes and then back up, lingering perhaps a little longer than absolutely necessary in certain areas.

“Like what you see?”

She licks her lips slowly. “Mm-hm.”

To her disappointment, Bellamy steps into the pair of boxers he’s just grabbed and pulls them on.

“I’m afraid that’s it for now,” he tells her with a smirk of his own, pulling a green t-shirt over his head before finishing off the outfit with the green cargo pants.

“Party pooper,” Clarke complains, earning another laugh as he pulls the final piece of his uniform, the green jacket, out of the bag.

She thinks he’s just going to leave the room, but instead, he crouches down by the bed.

“How about if I promise to make it up to you later?” he suggests, running a finger along her hairline before pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I guess…” she pretends to grumble. “Are you coming back here tonight, or…?”

He considers the question for a moment, eyes intent on her but the expression in them unreadable. “Do you want me to?”

“Mm.”

His mouth quirks up in a smile. “Then I will.”

“Good.”

For a moment, she could swear that he’s about to say something else, but then he just kisses her softly and rises to his feet.

“See you later, Princess.”

“Have fun at work.”

He leaves the room, pulling the door almost closed behind him, and Clarke once again relaxes back into the pillows.

She listens to the sounds of him moving around the apartment for a while. A kitchen cupboard closing, then another one – he’s looking for mugs, probably, she forgot to tell him where they are – but not a third. She imagines him laughing quietly at the mug Raven got her for Christmas last year – Sarcasm loading, 74%, please wait… – before pouring coffee into it and leaning against the counter as he drinks it.

Five minutes later, she hears the front door open and close, and knows that he’s gone. It’s quite frankly unreasonable how empty the apartment immediately feels.

She knows she won’t be able to go back to sleep, but she doesn’t particularly feel like getting up yet either, so she grabs her phone and starts scrolling through her social media. After a little while, Bastet saunters into the room and jumps onto the bed, demanding some morning cuddles, and when the cat moves to the foot of the bed and curls into a ball fifteen minutes later, Clarke decides that it’s time to face the day.

-100-

They settle into a routine over the next couple of weeks. Bellamy spends every night at Clarke’s place, just going home to grab some more clothes and books for class every few days.

Considering she hasn’t lived with another person in over forty years – she and Niylah never got that far – it’s surprisingly easy to get used to having someone around a lot. Of course, he works during the day and has class in the evenings three or four times a week, but it’s still a lot more time _not_ being alone than she’s used to.

At first, Clarke’s worried that her Transfers might lead to awkward situations where she has to come up with believable explanations as to why she disappears now and then. But so far, most of her assignments have been while he’s been at work or in class, and none at odd hours of the night. The few times she’s had to come up with something, she’s been able to use Raven and say that she’s meeting her friend for lunch or coffee or something. Bellamy hasn’t questioned this – possibly because he’s also studying for finals – until now.

It’s his day off and they haven’t gotten out of bed for more than bathroom visits and breakfast, and even that they just cooked together in the kitchen and then brought back to bed. It’s a little after noon and Clarke has a Transfer at one, so she knows she has to get going soon.

But Bellamy is being very distracting.

“I really have to go,” she tries again, pushing half-heartedly against his chest.

“You can’t see Raven later?” he asks, leaning down to brush a kiss against her throat at the same time as he trails a hand down her side and slips it between her legs. “I have class tonight.”

“She and Zeke are going out tonight. It’s just lunch, I’ll be back in two hours, tops.” She can’t help but gasp and lift her hips when he pushes one finger inside her, though.

He doesn’t say anything more, just leans down to kiss her as he adds another finger. He curls them just right on every stroke and when he adds circles against her clits with his thumb, he has her falling apart in just a few minutes.

“See?” he murmurs into her ear as she comes back down. “I’ll make it worth your while if you stay here…”

“I know,” Clarke says breathlessly. “I just don’t want to be one of those girls who ditches her friends because she has a new boyfriend.”

She realizes what she’s said a split second before Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up and she has to force her lips together to keep from trying to backtrack. Not that she really wants to, but it’s way too soon to be talking about labels…

“Boyfriend, huh?”

“I don’t know why I said that, it just slipped out, I…”

He cuts her off with a kiss. “Relax, Princess,” he says when he pulls back, a huge smile on his face. “I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

He leans down again and she returns the kiss for a moment before pulling away. “I still have to go.”

Finally, he rolls off her. “It was worth a shot.”

“You gave it your best,” she agrees, patting his chest reassuringly and quickly getting out of bed before he can come up with some other way to convince her to stay. She’s pretty sure he could if he really put his mind to it.

Still, she just makes it to the Transfer in time.

She does meet Raven for lunch a couple of days later, because she really is trying to make an effort to not get lost in her and Bellamy’s little bubble.

“So,” her friend starts when she’s plopped down at the table Clarke snagged for them before the lunch rush started ten minutes ago. “How goes the co-habitation?”

“It’s fine,” she replies, avoiding Raven’s eyes and focusing on her water glass.

“You know you can’t lie to me.”

Clarke sighs. “I… almost said it the other night.”

“Said what?”

“The L word.”

It hadn’t even been anything special. Bellamy got home from his night class much later than usual, not until almost midnight, due to getting stuck in the aftermath of a car accident – he texted to let her know, so she wasn’t worrying or anything, but she fell asleep on the couch waiting for him. When she woke up, he was laying her down carefully on the bed, and her sleep-addled brain figured out that he must have carried her from the living room. When he realized that she was awake, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead before straightening up.

“Go back to sleep, Princess,” he whispered. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

She burrowed into the bed but was still half-awake when he crawled in next to her a few minutes later and pulled her closer, and she buried her face against his neck instead of in her pillow.

“I missed you tonight,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Mmm,” she agreed. “Me too. I…”

She fell asleep mid-sentence, and that should have been the end of it, really. But in the morning, the moment came back in full clarity and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt what she had been about to say.

She’s expecting Raven to be shocked, or at least surprised, but all she gets is, “Oh.”

Clarke finally looks up at her friend again. “What do you mean ‘oh’? You’re… not surprised?”

This gets more of the reaction Clarke was expecting to begin with and Raven’s eyebrows shoot up. “You _are_? You really didn’t know that you were in love with him?”

“I…” She pauses, really thinking about it for a moment. “No. I mean, I knew I was falling, but I hadn’t realized I was already so far gone.”

“Oh, babe.” Raven reaches across the table to pat her hand. “I knew that way back at Thanksgiving.”

Clarke almost chokes on the sip of water she just took. “Thanksgiving?”

Raven just shrugs. “Yeah. I’ve never seen you like that, not with anyone. And I was there for both Lexa and Wells, remember? So yeah, I knew. I really thought you did too, or I would have said something.”

Had she known and just not wanted to face it? It’s not impossible, her subconscious still clinging to Bellamy’s Number and how it’s a bad idea to get involved with him… never mind that it’s clearly way too late to avoid that. God, she’s in _so_ deep.

“Anyway, why didn’t you just say it?”

It’s Clarke’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “It’s been less than a month, I can’t drop the L bomb on him.”

“Why not? I can say with at least ninety-nine point nine percent certainty that he’ll say it back.”

Her heart rate picks up a little, remembering the smile on his face when she’d accidentally called him her boyfriend. “You really think so?”

Raven does one of her famous eye rolls. “I _know_ so. That boy is head over heels, follow you to the end of the world, start wars in love with you. It was beyond obvious during game night.”

Whenever Clarke and Raven are in the same general area – which is most of the time these days – they do monthly game nights. Sometimes it’s just the two of them and Zeke, sometimes it’s the whole gang plus some extra people when someone brings a friend.

This Monday had been Clarke’s turn to host, and as luck would have it, Bellamy’s class was cancelled, so he got the full experience, which included Raven turning over the Monopoly board when Zeke bankrupted her, Jasper getting high and spending half an hour insisting that P-A-C-L-I-P-E-G-O – which was really just all his letters and two already on the Scrabble board – was a word, and Harper throwing the candle stick at Monty when he won Clue.

Pretty much a normal game night.

But Clarke hadn’t picked up on anything special from Bellamy, so she’s not sure where Raven gets that.

“How do you mean obvious?”

Raven lets out an exasperated sigh. “You really don’t see it?”

Clarke’s phone dings and she rummages around in her purse for it. “I guess I just don’t want to jump to conclusions. I mean, I did accidentally call him my boyfriend the other day and _he_ actually calmed _me_ down when I freaked out about it and said that he wanted to be my boyfriend, so at least that covers the whole ‘what are we’ thing. But love, that’s…”

She finally finds her phone and can’t help the smile on her face when she sees that the message is from Bellamy.

_Hey, what are you doing tonight?_

She hesitates for a moment.

**You, hopefully :-P Why?**

_Good answer ;-)_

_Miller’s complaining he’s barely  
seen me for weeks._

_And he wants to “officially” meet  
you, whatever that means._

_He’s promised to make his  
amazing spaghetti and meatballs._

_Would you mind spending tonight  
at my place?_

_I apologize in advance for any too  
personal questions and obscure  
grew-up-together, practically-  
family, in-jokes._

_But at least you’ll have Jackson  
to roll your eyes at for those._

She’s trying to type out a reply, but the rapid stream of texts make it hard.

**Stop rambling!**

_Sorry…_

**Thank you :-)**

**I would love to have dinner  
with Miller and Jackson   
tonight**

_Oh, great, my ranting didn’t  
scare you off ;)_

_So I’ll tell him we’ll be there?_

**Yes!**

**Go back to work you dork :-P**

_OK, OK!_

_See you later :-*_

**Yes you will :-***

When she puts the phone down and looks up again, Raven is watching her with amusement.

“See? That, right there. You’re completely gone.”

Clarke sighs. “Yeah, I guess…”

“And he’s the same way. He can’t keep his eyes off you, it’s like… some sort of magnetic pull. Seriously, trust me – just tell him. I promise he’ll be over the moon. He’s probably been worried about saying it too soon too.”

“Maybe.”

She thinks she might give it a little longer, despite Raven’s assurance…

“What did he want, anyway?” Raven asks.

“Apparently, Miller thinks I’ve been hogging him lately, so we’re having dinner with him and Jackson tonight,” Clarke tells her with a shrug.

“Ah, so kind of like meeting the family, right? You said that he grew up with the Millers as a sort of extra family, and it’s not like you’re going to meet his parents.”

Trust Raven to turn a simple dinner into something to get nervous about.

“I guess…” Clarke agrees reluctantly.

“OK, topic change,” Raven announces, thankfully. “Christmas. I’m picking up everything I can next week, before the stores descend into complete chaos, so I need to know numbers.”

Since Raven hosted Thanksgiving they’re doing Christmas at Clarke’s place, even though Raven and Zeke will be doing the actual cooking. Clarke offered to do the shopping, but Raven just rolled her eyes and said that she’d rather do it right from the start instead of having to go back to the store to get everything Clarke forgot. Which was a little insulting, really. She does know how to follow a shopping list, thank you very much.

“Well, Jasper, Maya, Harper and Monty are going out of town together, and Murphy doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so I guess we’re on our own.”

Raven hesitates briefly and then nods. “OK then.”

But Clarke knows her, and she knows that there’s something her friend’s not saying.

“What did you do?” she asks sternly, because it does go both ways – she knows she can’t lie to Raven, but Raven can’t lie to her, either.

Raven keeps her eyes firmly on the menu in front of her, even though Clarke has already ordered for both of them. “I didn’t _do_ anything.”

“What are you not telling me then?”

Raven’s quiet for another long moment, then she sighs deeply. “You’re going to have to tell him that you forced me to tell you.”

“Who? What on earth are you talking about?”

Finally looking up again, Raven meets her eyes with an almost defiant look that Clarke recognizes very well on her face.

“Wells and Sasha are coming over for a couple of days around Christmas,” she says. “He wanted to surprise you, but, well, you obviously refuse to be surprised.”

Clarke gives her a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

“Whatever. So that makes it five… what about Loverboy?”

“Are you ever going to use his actual name?”

“To his face? Sure. Talking to you? Not likely.”

Clarke supposes she’ll have to content herself with that.

“And you’re avoiding the question,” Raven continues. “You don’t want to spend Christmas with him?”

Of course she does. It’s the only Christmas she’ll have the opportunity…

“It’s like the L word – isn’t it too soon?” she wonders, and Raven shrugs.

“Do you know if he has plans?”

“We haven’t actually talked about it. I don’t think his sister is coming to town – there’s definitely something there he doesn’t want to talk about and I don’t want to push – but I know he spends holidays with Miller’s family sometimes, so he’ll probably be going there.”

A worrying smile spreads on Raven’s face. “That’s your chance, then! You don’t have to ask _him_ what he’s doing for Christmas, just ask Miller.”

As most of Raven’s ideas, it’s actually pretty smart.

“OK, fine, I will.”

And she’ll have to, too, because Raven will not let this go until she has an answer, and if Clarke just says that she’s asked and Bellamy has plans, she wouldn’t put it past her friend to ask him herself.

-100-

“Why are you so nervous?”

At Bellamy’s question, Clarke turns around to find him lounging on the bed, already dressed and ready to go. She’s standing in the walk-in closet, only wearing panties and a bra, and it’s a testament to his self-control that he hasn’t joined her in there and backed her up against a wall yet. Though they do have to leave in ten minutes to make it to his place in time for dinner with Miller and Jackson, so that’s probably why.

“Who says I’m nervous?” she replies, though she is, of course. Stupid Raven.

“The fact that you’ve tried on and discarded three different outfits – all of which made you look absolutely amazing, by the way,” he says.

She sighs. “Fine, maybe I am. Raven said something about this dinner basically being like meeting your family, since you grew up with Miller as a sort of extra brother. And I don’t know why that made me nervous, but it did, OK?”

She half-expects him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gets up from the bed and crosses the room to the closet. He takes both her hands in his and waits until she looks up at him.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, OK?” he assures her. “Miller already loves you – you’ve made me leave the house voluntarily for something other than work and class for the first time in ages. You’re already off to a flying start.”

Clarke can’t help but laugh a little at that. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” He squeezes her hands once before letting her go. “Now put on that green dress you tried on first.”

She turns to pull it off the hanger again. “Not the blue one?” she asks. “I thought you liked that one more.”

She sees his eyes darken at her words. “I do, but if you wear that one, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

She feels her stomach swoop at that.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“Exactly.”

“But I will keep that in mind for the future.”

A wonderful smell greets them when Bellamy unlocks the door to his and Miller’s apartment barely an hour later.

“We’re here,” he calls as the door closes behind them.

“Kitchen!” someone calls back.

He helps her off with her jacket and hangs it up before putting a hand on the small of her back and half-pushing her ahead of him down the hallway.

“Just in time,” the guy standing at the stove says, glancing at them over his shoulder. “Ten more minutes and dinner will be ready.”

“What he means is welcome,” a voice comes from behind them.

Clarke turns to find a tall, dark haired guy that she remembers from Raven’s Halloween party setting the table. “Hey, Batman!”

He laughs. “Eric Jackson, actually, most people call me Jackson. And you must be Clarke. Nice to officially meet you.”

She accepts his extended hand.

“I am, nice to meet you too.”

“And that’s Nathan over there, but he doesn’t respond to anything but Miller,” Jackson continues, nodding at the guy at the stove.

“Hey,” he calls, waving a spatula in the air.

“Hey, Robin,” Clarke replies, remembering his outfit from Halloween as well.

Bellamy chuckles next to her. “Is that how you want to play this, Princess?”

She just rolls her eyes. “You already call me that all the time anyway.”

That gets a laugh out of Miller and he turns halfway around to give her an appreciative look. “I like you.”

And just like that, all her nerves are gone.

Bellamy joins Miller at the stove while she helps Jackson set the table. They quickly realize that they both have a membership to The Guggenheim and like to stroll around the modern, minimalistic halls, and get engrossed in a discussion of the latest exhibition.

The food is delicious, just like Bellamy promised, and the conversation flows easily at the table. Clarke discovers that Miller loves embarrassing his friend, and she happily listens to all the stories of crazy things the two of them got up to in junior high and high school, before they both ‘got their shit together’, as Miller puts it.

Bellamy seems torn between being annoyed at Miller for revealing all his youthful mistakes, and happy that he and Clarke are hitting it off. He settles for giving Miller exasperated looks now and then and retaliating with stories of his own, and smiling at Clarke.

“So, Clarke,” Miller says when they’ve settled onto the couch with dessert – just ice cream, but she’s so full she doesn’t think she could get anything else down anyway. “Bellamy said you spent Thanksgiving with Raven and Zeke, are you celebrating Christmas together too?”

Excellent, he’s giving her an opening to find out about Bellamy’s Christmas plans without having to bring it up herself.

“I am, yeah,” she confirms. “I’m actually hosting this year, we’ll see how that goes. And a couple of other friends I haven’t seen in a while are coming in from out of town as well, so it should be fun. How about you?”

Miller and Jackson exchange a look.

“Well, Nathan’s parents won four tickets to a Christmas cruise and invited us to go with them,” Jackson says after a moment.

“But they don’t want to go and leave me all alone over the holidays,” Bellamy finishes with a roll of his eyes. “I’ve told them that it’s fine, but do they listen?”

“And _I’ve_ told _you_ that you don’t abandon family on Christmas,” Miller retorts in a way that makes it clear it’s not the first time they’re having this discussion. “Dad’s trying to get another ticket, but if he can’t Aunt Marjorie and Uncle James will go instead of us, it’s not a big deal.”

Clarke sees her opening. “If you’re worried about this one brooding in his lonesome all Christmas, I can drag him along to my place.”

“You’d really do that?” Miller asks, though she’s pretty sure that’s what he was fishing for when he brought it up. She hopes he’s had some sort of indication from Bellamy that he actually _wants_ to spend Christmas with her, and that it’s not just that Miller and Jackson really want to go on that cruise.

“Of course,” she assures him. “That way you won’t miss out on the cruise, and I’ll get some reinforcements against the couple invasion I’m facing.”

That seems to settle the conversation, as Miller switches topics.

It’s late when they finally go to bed, after one in the morning. Bellamy has tomorrow off, but Clarke has a story time at eleven, so they can’t sleep in, unfortunately.

Bellamy waits until she’s returned from the bathroom and crawled under the covers before he brings up the topic of Christmas again.

“I’m sorry about Miller ambushing you with the whole Christmas thing,” he says quietly when she’s settled in with her head on his chest, his arm sneaking under her so he can wrap it around her waist and pull her closer. “He’s been nagging me to ask you about it for a week, I guess he decided to take things into his own hands.”

She reaches across him to intertwine their fingers. “Don’t apologize, I was going to ask if you wanted to spend the holidays together myself, he just saved me from having to figure out how to bring it up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She pauses. “But, I mean, if you just want to have a quiet Christmas on your own and _not_ subject yourself to the madness that is Raven in holiday spirit, I totally understand.”

Bellamy chuckles. “I actually kind of like Raven. Sure, she’s intense, but she seems like she’s a good person to have on your side.”

“The best. So Christmas at my place with my crazy friends?”

“If you’re sure you want me there.”

Clarke shifts so she can look up at him. “I _always_ want you there. I thought that much was obvious since I’ve basically refused to let you leave for two and a half weeks.”

“It’s not like I tried very hard.”

She settles down again, letting out a deep breath.

“So we’re doing Christmas?”

Bellamy squeezes her hand. “Looks like it.”

“Just a heads-up – one of the friends from out of town that’s going to be there is my ex.” She figures it’s best to put that out there, in case someone says something about her and Wells’ relationship in front of Bellamy. Come to think of it, she should probably discuss this with Wells before he and Sasha actually get here too, make sure they have their stories straight…

“Oh. Alex, right?”

“Lexa. But no, not her, Wells,” Clarke clarifies. “We dated our senior year of high school and made it all the way to the Thanksgiving break our first semester at college before we realized that long distance wasn’t going to work. We stayed friends, though, and his girlfriend, Sasha, is a close friend of mine too, even if they live in the UK these days.”

“That’s nice, that you stayed friends,” Bellamy notes. “I’ve never really managed that with exes.”

“Yeah, it can be hard,” she agrees. “So you’re OK with that? You don’t want to back out of Christmas?”

“I think I can handle seeing you with a guy you broke up with, what? Eight, nine years ago?”

Bellamy thinks she’s twenty-seven, so that’s about right.

“Good.” She burrows further into the mattress and shifts a little so she can bury her face against his throat. “Because I really do want you there.”

He places a kiss on top of her head. “Then I’ll be there.”

She hums contentedly, feeling the first tendrils of sleep tugging at her mind.

“I love you.”

At first, she’s not sure she heard him right, but then she realizes that he’s tensed beneath her, and pushes herself up a little to be able to look at him. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks like he’s afraid she’s going to run out of the room screaming.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s way too soon to say that, I just…”

She silences him with a kiss before pulling back and meeting his worried gaze. “I love you too.”

She can both see the relief in his eyes and feel it in the way his whole body relaxes.

“I almost said it the other night,” she reveals.

“When?” Bellamy asks.

“That night when you got home late and carried me to bed.”

“Really?”

Clarke just nods.

“I’ve been trying not to blurt it out for a while,” he admits.

“Since when?” she asks, curiously. Not that it matters who wanted to say it first, it’s not a competition or anything.

“That first morning at your place. You were lying there in bed, all sleepy and soft, and didn’t want me to leave… I was so close to just saying it then.”

She remembers that morning, remembers thinking he was about to say something and then didn’t.

“Really?” she repeats his earlier question.

“Really,” he says with a half-smile. “I was worried I’d scare you off.”

Her eyes flit to his Number for a moment. 224. It’s after midnight, so it’s already counted down one more day.

“You couldn’t scare me off if you tried,” she tells him truthfully.

The universe has already tried and failed, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: a tiny bit of explicit sexual content. Blink and you might miss it


	15. Tell Me Your Secrets and Ask Me Your Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys, hope you’re all doing OK in these difficult times… hang in there and be kind to each other, and we’ll get through this too
> 
> Getting started on Christmas in this chapter (it’ll stretch over a couple of chapters), which was lots of fun to write – and I might have snuck in some of our Swedish traditions ;) Also, we’re finally finding out what happened with Octavia, I don’t know if anyone’s been wondering about that… Plus a bit of a hint of what’s to come, if you pay attention ;)
> 
> Chapter title from “The Scientist” by Coldplay. Yes, I know I’ve already used one of their songs for another chapter title…
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Bellamy brings up the Christmas thing again a few days later, when they’re lounging in bed having breakfast one morning. He has the day off, and yesterday was his last final, so even though he does still have work tomorrow, he says that he’s feeling free since classes won’t start up again until after the holidays.

“So, Christmas,” he starts.

Clarke swallows the mouthful of coffee she just took. “What about it?”

“What do you guys do about presents?”

She frowns. “Well, we usually exchange them, but you don’t have to worry about that. You hardly know Raven and Zeke, and you haven’t even met Wells and Sasha.”

“I know, but… it feels wrong to just show up empty handed,” he insists.

“You can always get in on my presents if you want,” she suggests, but he shakes his head at that idea.

“Then they’d probably feel bad they didn’t get me anything,” Bellamy reasons. “I was thinking just something small. Symbolic.”

“Hmm.” She thinks for a moment. “Chocolate always works for Raven and Sasha, most specialist chocolate stores do holiday collections, you could get a box or something for each of them. It’s not too expensive but still nice. And… actually, the guys might be more your area of expertise.”

“Normally I would probably go with alcohol, but since Zeke’s some sort of expert on that…”

The discussion reminds Clarke that she has to pick up presents for Wells and Sasha herself… though, really, if they’d gotten their way, she wouldn’t even have known they were coming. She does usually get them presents, but they’ve come to a sort of agreement where they wait for the season sales after Christmas, which both means they get better deals and that they don’t risk the presents getting delayed or even lost due to the heavy load on the postal systems before the holidays, which did happen the first year after Wells and Sasha moved.

But she’s already talked to Wells, to fill him in on what she’s told Bellamy about their relationship, so he knows that she knows they’re coming.

“I actually need to pick something up for Wells and Sasha too,” she says. “I didn’t know they were coming until just the other day, apparently they wanted to surprise me.”

“That’s nice,” he notes. “Are they staying here with you, or with Raven?”

“Neither,” Clarke replies. “They always stay at the Four Seasons when they’re in town. But Raven and Zeke will stay here on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, we usually do sleepovers.”

“The Four Seasons? Jesus, are all your friends millionaires or something?”

She’s never really thought about it like that, but she supposes most of them actually are. It’s not hard to build up a small – or pretty big – fortune when you’ve been alive for over a century. Soul Keepers get paid very well, considering the actual work doesn’t take up much time, and while she does have her apartment in New York as well as a house in San Francisco that she managed to snap up before the housing market over there went completely haywire, Clarke usually takes advantage of the free accommodation Keepers can get if they want in most other cities. At the moment, she’s only volunteering at the library on the side, but now and then, she’ll take paid work instead, if she finds something that feels right. Add the income from her Etsy store and she sometimes has the equivalent of two full-time salaries with barely any expenses. Over time, it adds up. Also, it doesn’t hurt to have Raven as a best friend – she seems to have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to technology, and ever since she discovered the stock market, she’s made a lot of money, both for herself and for Clarke and their other friends, from investments in up-and-coming tech companies.

“Wells dad invented something back in the eighties,” she makes up on the spot, making a mental note to mention this to Wells so he’ll back her up if Bellamy asks about it, not that she thinks he will. “Something technical for computers or something, I have no idea. Wells inherited everything when his dad died, plus both he and Sasha have great jobs, so yeah, they’re pretty well off.”

“It’s a good thing we didn’t meet when I was, like, seventeen,” Bellamy muses. “Though you would have been, what, fourteen then? So it wouldn’t have been an issue either way, but I was pretty pissed at the world in general back then, and at rich people in particular…”

She can absolutely understand that, with his background. She offers a small smile. “Then I’m glad we didn’t meet back then too, and I’m sorry society gave you such a hard time. But no more distractions – how about we head out in a couple of hours, grab some lunch and go present shopping? I’ll help you find something for Zeke and Wells, and maybe we can find some Christmas spirit in the process.” So far, December has been mostly sunny, with only a couple colder days and hardly any snow at all.

Bellamy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “And here I was looking forward to not getting out of bed all day.”

“Well, we don’t have to,” she says with a shrug. “I mean, you have Sunday off and get off early on Monday, right? I’m sure nobody else will be out doing last minute Christmas shopping in New York City on Christmas Eve…”

He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm before pouncing on her, pinning her to the bed.

“Fine,” he agrees, sliding a finger slowly all the way from her thigh up her side to her breast, where he circles her nipple slowly. “But if we’re spending all afternoon shopping, we’d better make the most of the next few hours…”

And, boy, do they…

-100-

Clarke actually loves Christmas shopping, and especially in New York – there’s just something magical about the city with all the lights, the holiday windows, the Christmas trees and ice rinks…

They take the train all the way to 57th Street and grab lunch at a hole-in-the-wall Indian place before strolling down 6th Avenue, stopping for a while to watch the skaters and the tree at Rockefeller Center. It’s still light out, so the Christmas spirit isn’t quite there, but it’s still nice. Bellamy picks up a couple of season inspired chocolate boxes for Raven and Sasha at La Maison du Chocolat, and they sample everything they can in the shop as well.

After that, they take a detour to Times Square where Clarke gets her presents – a book on brewing your own beer for Wells, who has just picked up the hobby, and a cute little charm in the shape of a snowflake for Sasha, who has a bracelet that Wells gave her for their anniversary a few years ago that she’s slowly filling with charms.

They continue towards Bryant Park and in a little game shop that most people wouldn’t even notice in the hustle and bustle of New York, Bellamy finds his last two gifts – a quiz game about beer for Zeke and QI – the board game for Wells, since Clarke knows he’s been obsessed with the show for years.

Happy with their finds, they wrap up their little outing at the Winter Village. The sun has finally set and both the huge Christmas tree and all the lights have been lit. They stroll around the little holiday shops for a while, perusing everything from knitted hats and gloves to hand-woven baskets and unique artworks. Clarke always buys one new tree ornament for Christmas, and she just can’t resist a beautiful, red one with New York written in black and the city’s skyline.

When they’ve made the rounds of all the shops, they buy some hot chocolate, since the early evening has turned a little cold, and lounge on the bleachers by the ice rink.

“So, a Clarke Griffin Christmas,” Bellamy says, blowing on his paper cup before taking a sip. “What can I expect?”

“Well, the first thing you need to know when spending Christmas with me and Raven is that it’s a three day event.”

He pauses with the cup halfway from his mouth and gives her a questioning look. “Three days?”

Clarke chuckles. “Well, not three full days, but almost.”

She and Raven have spent Christmas together a lot over the years, not all of them but well over a hundred, for sure. Their traditions have evolved and merged and changed to accommodate new ones, and at this point it can only be described as an amalgamation of different cultures and times and people. Clarke loves it.

“Well, we usually start on Christmas Eve,” she tells him. “My great-great-something grandfather was from Sweden, so I like to incorporate some of those traditions, and over there Christmas Eve is the main day for celebration – that’s when families gather for the holiday meal, exchange presents, all that. We usually get together at some point early in the afternoon, order way too much Chinese food and then spend the rest of the day watching Christmas movies and eating and then everyone gets to open one present in the evening.”

She actually picked up the Swedish Christmas traditions when she was stationed there back in the late eighties and early nineties. Her first Christmas back in the States after those six years, she and Raven added them to their current Christmas traditions. To be perfectly honest, it was at least partly to be able to extend Christmas and make it last longer.

“Swedes eat Chinese food on Christmas Eve?” Bellamy asks a little incredulously.

“Oh, no,” Clarke replies. “They usually eat either roast ham, but we have that on Christmas Day, or something called lutfisk, which is dried whitefish treated with lye. I like it, Raven doesn’t, but it’s not that easy to come by here, and none of us know how to cook it properly anyway, so we’ve fudged that part a little.”

“Ah, I see. So it’s Swedish Christmas Eve Clarke and Raven style.”

She lets out a short laugh. “I guess you could say that. OK, so then on Christmas Day, it’s obviously presents in the morning. Then we cook breakfast together, and we really go all out – pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast… everything. After that, nobody obviously has any energy to do more than lounge around, so we either watch whatever’s on TV or continue our Christmas movie marathon. Sometimes we play board games or video games, especially if someone’s gotten one as a present. Do you have any favorite Christmas movies, by the way? We usually go around the group and everyone gets to pick one, then we start over, if we have the time.”

Bellamy frowns. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great. Preferably something that’s on Netflix, but DVDs are fine too, as long as you either make sure I already have it, or you bring it yourself. OK, so that brings us to the Christmas dinner – roast ham, mashed and roast potatoes, roasted vegetables, latkes… I’m probably forgetting something, there really is a _lot_ of food, but you get the picture. And a bunch of desserts.”

“So basically, you eat all day?”

“Of course, that’s the whole point!”

“Right, how could I forget?”

There’s a teasing note to his voice and Clarke gives him a look through narrowed eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”

Bellamy gives her an innocent look. “I would never.”

She’s not entirely sure he’s telling the truth. “Hm. Well, then it’s Boxing Day… which isn’t actually a holiday, do you have work?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s my day off that week.”

“OK, good, wouldn’t want you to miss the last part of our big Christmas celebration. So Boxing Day we usually go to a shelter and donate a few boxes of things – clothes, we buy some hygiene stuff like toothbrushes and toothpaste, soap, shampoo, and a bunch of Raven’s amazing Christmas cookies.”

“That’s a nice tradition,” he notes. “Where did it come from?”

“It’s a British thing,” Clarke explains. “The whole concept of Boxing Day has its origin in the UK, possibly coming from the tradition of giving servants that day off after they spent Christmas working, and then they were given a Christmas box with gifts or some money or leftover food to bring home to their families. I guess that sentiment evolved over the years into wanting to help those less fortunate… though these days it’s probably more about the sales that start everywhere on Boxing Day, but we choose to stick with the older traditions. I have a box of stuff if you want to add some things you don’t need or want anymore, and then we’ll stop by Walgreens on the way to pick up the rest.”

“I’ll stop by the apartment tomorrow after work,” Bellamy says. “I can drop off all the school books and go through the back of my closet where all the things I haven’t used in ages live.”

“Sounds good. Then we usually wrap up the festivities with hot chili, which is a Mexican tradition, possibly one last Christmas movie, and that’s it.”

He slides an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “I like your Christmas traditions.”

They sit in silence for a little while, watching the skaters and finishing their hot chocolate.

“So how do you usually celebrate Christmas?” Clarke eventually asks.

“Well, I’ve spent it with Miller and his family the last few years,” he starts. “Unlike Thanksgiving, which is just the immediate family, Christmas is the whole clan, basically. Miller has three uncles and two aunts, plus their significant others, and, like, fifteen cousins or something. Some of his older cousins have started getting married and having kids of their own, too, so last year I think there were… thirty-five adults and eleven kids.”

“Oh my God!” she can’t help but exclaim. “I’m guessing that was pretty intense?”

Bellamy chuckles. “That’s one word for it. Honestly, it’ll be nice to be able to relax a little…”

“Yeah, you should definitely get to do that.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “Before that, growing up… Mom usually worked, she got double time on holidays. But she always made sure to wake us up with hot chocolate in bed on Christmas morning and watch us open the presents in our stockings, which were usually second hand clothes and games or toys from the thrift store down the street, but still. When Octavia got older and started realizing that Christmas was a big deal, I tried to make it special for her. I made her things at school, little wooden toys in shop class when she was little, and then other stuff as she got older, boxes for her jewelry, pen holders and other stuff for her desk… I even made her a bookcase once.”

This is the most he’s talked about his sister since Halloween, and Clarke wants him to continue, wants to know what it is that puts that undertone of sadness in his voice whenever she’s mentioned, but she also doesn’t want to push.

“That’s nice,” she just says. “I’m sure she appreciated everything you did for her.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. She was never very good at saying it, but I think she did.”

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly. “Of course she did.”

“The Christmas after she left… that was probably the worst Christmas ever,” Bellamy continues after a beat, eyes intent on their joined hands. “I didn’t even leave the house… that’s when Miller suggested I move in with him.”

Clarke scoots closer to him and leans her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you had him.”

He huffs once. “Yeah, he’s definitely the reason I got through that period of my life more or less unscathed.”

He goes quiet again and she thinks this is probably it, he’s done sharing for today, so she’s surprised when he clears his throat after a few minutes and continues speaking.

“I told you my mom died right before I was supposed to go to college, right? And that I put off school to get the delivery job and be able to take care of O?”

“You did.”

“It was hard on Octavia. I mean, it was hard on me too, obviously, Mom had just died and suddenly my whole life changed, but O was just thirteen… a thirteen year old girl needs her mom, you know? I wasn’t… I couldn’t fill those shoes, no matter how hard I tried. It didn’t matter that I had been the one to basically raise her even before Mom died, since she was working all the time… It still never felt like I did enough, you know?

She started acting out – cutting class, smoking, staying out past her curfew… one day, she got caught shoplifting and social services almost took her away, but somehow I finally got through to her, told her that she could end up in a group home or the foster system, and she straightened up. She focused back on school, did _almost_ everything I told her to…

When she graduated high school, she got into NYU. Not on a scholarship or anything, but she qualified for some financial aid and I had been saving, too, so I knew we could do it, as long as she lived at home and we cut back on some things. I thought we were in agreement on the whole college thing, she was really excited when she got her acceptance letter. But then she came home the day after her high school graduation and told me that she wasn’t going. She had gotten a job on a cruise ship, I don’t even know what she was supposed to be doing, and it was leaving from Miami the next week.

I admit that I lost it a little. I yelled at her, told her she was throwing her life away, that Mom would be disappointed in her… in the end, she stormed out of the apartment. I let her go, figured I’d give her a few days to calm down. By the time I tried to get a hold of her again, her phone had been disconnected. I called her best friend, but she said that O had left, gone down to Florida early. I discovered that she had been home at some point when I was out, packed up a bunch of her clothes and some other stuff.

I didn’t know what to do. I called every cruise company I could find, but of course they wouldn’t tell me if she was working for them. She was eighteen, I wasn’t technically her guardian anymore, so legally, she could do whatever she wanted. I even thought about going down there, trying to find her, bring her back… but in the end, I realized that doing that would probably do more harm than good. Really push her away. So I let her go.”

Despite the noise from the rink and the stores around them, the silence seems deafening when he stops speaking.

“And you haven’t heard from her since?” Clarke asks gently after a moment.

Bellamy shakes his head. “No. I always figured, she was the one who left, you know? I was here, always here, not in our old apartment but still in the area. I have the same phone number and email address, Miller was already living in our apartment back then, she knew where he was… I’m not hard to find… she’s the one that has to want to come back. But it’s been seven and a half years of nothing now, I don’t… I think somewhere along the way, I accepted that she’s not coming back.”

She feels her heart break for him and has to blink away a few tears. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. But she could still come back. And no matter what you think, her leaving is not your fault.”

He snorts. “Sure it is. If I hadn’t yelled at her, maybe she wouldn’t have taken off like that. I could have been supportive, told her that she’d always have a place with me whenever she wanted to come back.”

“OK, yes, you could have handled it better,” she agrees. “But so could she.”

He leans his head on top of hers and lets out a shaky breath. “Maybe.”

Clarke wants to push it, but she has a feeling it won’t do any good. He’s just not ready to forgive himself. She turns her head so she can bury her face against his throat and breathes him in,

“Thank you for telling me. I love you.”

“I love you too. I didn’t want there to be any big secrets between us.”

The words make a lump of ice settle in her stomach. Because there is a big secret between them. A huge secret.

-100-

Clarke starts having trouble sleeping in the days after Bellamy tells her about his sister, her conscience nagging at her whenever she lets her mind rest. He notices, of course.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” he asks her when he gets up on Friday to find her already seated at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee. Her third cup of the day, but he doesn’t need to know that. “And don’t say nothing, you’ve been tossing and turning all night for days, and now you’re up before me? Didn’t I tire you out last night?”

He definitely did… and she’d been able to fall asleep without problem. It was when she woke up at four thirty in the morning that she couldn’t go back to sleep, her mind churning.

Should she tell him? And if so, _what_ should she tell him? If she just reveals the Soul Keeper thing, how can she justify telling him about that? She just got to New York, she won’t be reassigned again for at least five or six years, unless she asks for it… Sure, she could say that she doesn’t want to have to lie to him about such a big part of her life anymore, but that would actually feel like more of a deception, since there would be this huge part of it that he still wouldn’t know. And if she decides to tell him everything, then what? She has no idea how he’d react…

“It’s nothing,” she says as he turns his back on her to pour himself some coffee. “I promise. My brain’s just a little wired this time of year.”

She can tell from the look in his eyes that he doesn’t buy it. He joins her at the counter, leaning his elbows against it and sipping his coffee.

“Promise to tell me if something’s really bothering you?” he asks, eyes pleading.

“Of course.”

Clarke takes another sip of coffee, trying to give him a reassuring smile but probably failing.

“Hey,” she says after a moment. “Weird question. If you found out you had seven months to live, what would you do?”

Bellamy frowns. “Seven months? That’s weirdly specific…”

“Six months then,” she amends, berating herself for not saying that from the start. “Or a year. What would you do?”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking she assumes. “Well, considering I only have a couple of grand in my savings account and I’d still have to live _during_ that time, I wouldn’t quit my job. Might drop out of school, though, no point wasting my nights on classes if I’m never going to get that degree anyway.” He pauses, takes another sip of coffee. “Make things right with Octavia and then just… spend time with my friends, with her, if I could, with you. Try to make the most of the time I had left.”

She probably should have expected something like that. There’s no way responsible Bellamy Blake would drop everything to go on one last adventure…

“And if money wasn’t an issue?” she presses. “Say you win the Powerball, a hundred million dollars, and the day after you find out you have a year to live. Then what would you do?”

“This question is getting weirder and weirder,” Bellamy notes, giving her an odd look.

“Just humor me. My brain is sleep deprived, it comes up with weird things.”

He takes a deep breath. “Well, in that case I’d probably want to travel. See the places I’ve been reading about most of my life… Rome, Athens, Pompeii. Other places too, London, Paris, the pyramids, the Great Wall, Machu Picchu, Grand Canyon. And the Philippines, I’d want to see where my dad came from.”

Would he let her do that for him, if she were to tell him the truth? If there’s one thing she knows about Bellamy after these last few intense weeks together, it’s that he’s proud. He doesn’t like to accept help. But this… it’s not like she really needs the money, it usually just sits in her accounts. She makes donations to charities regularly, but she doesn’t do much for herself, and no matter what he might think, making this dream of his come true would be just as much for her as it would be for him.

“The adventure of a lifetime,” she notes, and he chuckles.

“I guess. But this is all just hypothetical, so while it’s nice to dream, I’ll probably never get to see those places.”

He will if she has anything to say about it.

-100-

Raven and Zeke are the first to arrive on Christmas Eve. Bellamy has work until one and Wells and Sasha are probably doing some last minute shopping – Raven picked them up at the airport yesterday, and Clarke asked her to tell them that Bellamy had insisted on getting them both a little something, which made Sasha immediately decide that they had to find something for him as well, so he wouldn’t feel left out. Clarke texted them a couple of hints, so hopefully they’ve been able to find something that he’ll like.

“Hey, I need your help,” Clarke greets them when she opens the door.

Raven raises an eyebrow. “You mean apart from the fantastic Christmas feast we’re going to be cooking for _your_ guests tomorrow?”

“Exactly.”

“I think what she means is ‘of course, Clarke, it’s Christmas, naturally we’ll help you with whatever it is you need’,” Zeke interjects and Raven rolls her eyes.

“I really didn’t.”

He ignores her. “What’s up, Griffin?”

“Well, my head’s been all over the place these last few days,” she starts, leading them into the living room. “And I completely forgot to check my assignments for this week. I only had one Transfer this morning, which wasn’t a problem, but it turns out I have two tomorrow afternoon. They’re pretty close together, two thirty and three fifteen, both on the Lower East Side, but there is absolutely no way that I can justify leaving for over an hour. Could either of you take them? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” She slumps down on the couch, giving them both hopeful smiles.

“Of course,” Zeke says immediately, pulling his phone out of his pocket and sitting down next to her. “I have one myself, at four, so maybe we can just say that there’s something I have to do for a couple of hours in the afternoon? The community center is open for the kids all day, doing dinner and games and stuff, we can say I need to stop by there… though I’d probably have to actually do that, with Miller working there it could get back to Bellamy if I don’t.”

“You’re an angel,” Clarke tells him, smacking a kiss on his cheek. “Seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it, just send it over.”

It’s a pretty new feature in their app, the ability to send a Transfer to another Keeper. That person has to accept it, of course, you can’t just send assignments around all willy-nilly, but Clarke really prefers it to just declining assignments, which they can technically do – it’s not like they’re paid based on how many Transfers they do or anything, and they still get paid if they take time off. Still, she tries to have enough foresight that she registers any time she’s planning to take off, so she won’t have to decline assignments, but this is a good option in a pinch.

She opens her own app and sends the two Transfers to Zeke, making his phone ding a moment later. He clicks a few times before putting the phone away again. “There, all done. They were even in the same basic area as the one I already had, so shouldn’t take too long.”

“Phew, that’s a weight off my shoulders.”

Raven’s been quiet during their exchange, but now she pipes up. “What’s got you so distracted you’re not keeping track of your assignments, anyway?” she asks. “Loverboy got you all hot and bothered?”

Clarke sighs. “Sort of. Remember I said I thought there was something with his sister that he wasn’t telling me?” Raven nods. “Well, he told me… and then he said that he didn’t want there to be any big secrets between us.”

Raven winces. “Ouch.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What are you going to do?” Zeke asks.

At that moment, the doorbell rings. “I don’t know,” Clarke replies, getting up from the couch. “I hate lying to him all the time, but I just… I don’t know.”

She expects it to be Wells and Sasha, but when she opens the door again, she finds Bellamy on the other side.

“Hi there,” she says, reaching up to give him a kiss. “I’ve told you to just use the key.”

He’s been insistent on only using the spare key he still has when he has to, like when he locks up after himself in the morning or when he gets back when Clarke’s not home. She’s been trying to get him to just use it all the time, but he still rings the doorbell when he knows she’s there. It’s both adorable and, at times, a little frustrating.

“Force of habit,” he replies, following her into the apartment. “Hey, guys.”

Raven and Zeke look up. “Happy holidays!” Raven exclaims. “Are you ready for Christmas extraordinaire?”

“I hope so,” he replies, claiming a spot on the couch next to Zeke. “Not sure I’ll be able to keep up with all the eating, based on what Clarke’s told me, but I am going to do my very best.”

“You’ll be fine,” Zeke assures him, clapping him on the back.

“It’s not like we’ll force you to eat anything,” Clarke adds. She’s about to join the others on the couch, but before she has a chance, the doorbell rings again. “And that should be Wells and Sasha.”

Sure enough, it is, Wells laden with bags full of presents and Sasha carrying a huge bouquet of flowers.

“Hey guys!” Clarke exclaims, stepping aside to let them in. “Here, let me take those.”

She grabs the flowers from Sasha, who helps Wells put all the bags down on the floor so they can both take off their shoes and coats.

“Hi, sweetie, it’s been much too long,” Sasha says, pulling Clarke into a one-armed hug. “We’ve missed you.”

“Well, that’s what you get for moving half-way across the world,” Clarke teases, pulling away from Sasha to hug Wells too.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all our fault,” he grumbles, his arms tight around her. “How’re you doing?”

She takes a deep breath before letting him go. “I’m good. It’s… you know. But it’s too late to turn back now.”

He gives her an understanding smile and squeezes her hand before grabbing the bags again.

“Hey, Jaha, Walgrove!” Raven’s voice comes from the living room. “Stop hiding out in the hallway, some of us haven’t eaten all day!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s an exaggeration, but better not keep her waiting,” Clarke notes, heading into the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers before continuing to the living room, where Bellamy’s gotten to his feet to greet the new arrivals. “We are complete. This is Wells and Sasha, guys, this is Bellamy.”

Wells holds out his hand first. “It’s nice to meet you, man, Clarke’s been talking about you a lot the last few weeks.”

“Don’t tell him that!” Clarke stage whispers, making the others laugh.

“Nice to meet you too,” Bellamy replies, shaking Wells’ hand. “And you, Sasha.”

Unlike Wells, Sasha can’t help but glance at Bellamy’s Number, but she quickly moves her eyes to his and smiles. “It’s so good to meet you, I’m glad you could join us for this.”

“Me too,” Bellamy agrees.

“So, Clarke tells me that you study history?” Wells says. “I’ve always been fascinated by history. What’s your favorite time period?”

And just like that, the two are off discussing ancient Greece and the Roman Empire, and Clarke breathes a small sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: again, a little bit of explicit sexual content. Also some references to Bellamy’s mom dying, but no details or anything


	16. Christmas Eve Will Find Me Where the Lovelight Gleams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week in this strange new reality… hope everyone’s doing OK out there, stay strong!
> 
> Time for Christmas chapter number 2 – Christmas Eve! Hope you guys like it, I had lots of fun writing it :)
> 
> Chapter title from “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” by Bing Crosby
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings!

With the greetings over, Raven draws everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand – food.

“OK, seriously, I really _am_ hungry, guys. Can we order, please?”

So Clarke grabs the menu for Fortune House from the take-out drawer in the kitchen and they pass it around, eventually deciding on what they want. Raven calls in their order, doubling everything as usual, while Wells arranges his and Sasha’s presents under the tree in the corner.

“Right,” Zeke says when Raven plops down beside him again. “First movie, Clarke’s pick since we’re here.”

Clarke grabs the remote and starts up Netflix. “You know we have to start with a classic.”

She scrolls through the Christmas category until she finds what she’s looking for, getting cheers from Wells and Sasha, and booing from Raven, when she starts _It’s a Wonderful Life_.

She puts the remote down on the table and pulls her legs under her before curling into Bellamy’s side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Favorite Christmas movie?” he asks her quietly.

“One of them,” she replies. “I’m pretty sure Sasha will pick one of the others, and hopefully we’ll finish at least one round so I’ll get to pick again.”

He huffs a laugh.

They’re almost halfway through the movie when the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of the much awaited food, and Clarke jumps to her feet.

“No need to pause, be right back,” she says, heading into the hallway.

They really did order a _lot_ of food, and the poor delivery guy seems to almost buckle under the weight of the two huge bags. He’s probably not used to delivering this much food at once. Clarke tips him more than generously, though, and he leaves with a smile.

Bellamy appears behind her when she closes the door, holding his hands out for the bags. “Let me take those.”

She hands them over and goes into the kitchen to grab plates for everyone, along with some forks, for those who don’t want to use chopsticks, and serving spoons. When she puts everything down on the table, the movie has been paused and the others are unpacking all the paper containers from the bags.

“What does everyone want to drink?” she asks as she heads back to the kitchen.

“Wine!” Raven and Sasha call in unison, so Clarke opens the wine fridge and grabs a bottle of white, knowing that Sasha prefers it while Raven doesn’t care.

“Guys?” She puts the bottle on the counter and opens the cupboard with wine glasses.

“I’ll take a beer,” Zeke replies.

“Make that two,” Wells adds.

“I’ll have wine too,” Bellamy says from next to her, and she gives him a quick smile.

“Here.” She hands him four wine glasses. “Bring those in, I’ve got the bottle and the beers.”

He nods, leaning down and stealing a quick kiss before heading back to the living room. Clarke grabs the wine and gets two bottles of beer from the fridge before following him.

She hands out the beers and pours wine into the four glasses, then takes the paper container that Wells offers her. They pass the food around, everyone scooping what they want onto their plates, before starting the movie again.

“There’s so much food left,” Bellamy notes when everyone’s settled in with plates in their laps.

“Never fear,” Raven tells him, waving her fork in a dismissive motion. “It’s only two thirty, we have hours and hours to finish the rest of it. Trust the experts.”

He still gives Clarke a doubtful look and she pats his knee comfortingly. “Don’t worry, we’ve done this before.”

By the time the credits roll across the screen and everyone’s leaning back on the couch, practically bursting at the seams, almost half the cartons are still unopened on the table.

“OK, ten minute bathroom slash putting away food break,” Raven announces, pushing off the couch and grabbing some of the still full food containers.

“We get bathroom breaks?” Bellamy says quietly and Clarke has to hold back a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” she assures him. “You’re allowed to go to the bathroom in the middle of a movie… just don’t block Raven’s view.”

He gives her a long look. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

She just shrugs, stacking the empty plates.

“When in doubt when it comes to Raven,” Wells pipes in. “Always err on the side of caution.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve already figured _that_ out myself.”

They all laugh at that before Wells takes the plates from Clarke. “Sit,” he orders her. “We’ve got it. Help this guy pick out the next movie.”

“It’s my turn?” Bellamy asks, reclaiming his seat on one of the chaises before moving into the corner and stretching his legs out in front of him.

Clarke sits down next to him, mirroring his position and sliding down a little so she can lean back against him. “Apparently.”

He hums and starts scrolling through the titles on the screen, but waits until everyone else has returned to the living room – Raven and Zeke claiming the opposite chaise while Wells and Sasha sit down in the middle of the couch and put their feet up on the table – before he clicks on _A Charlie Brown Christmas_.

“Really?” Clarke asks, glancing up at him.

She feels him shrug. “Mom recorded it when I was, like, five or something,” he says. “We used to watch it on Christmas every year until our VCR broke the year before she died. It was a nice tradition.”

She reaches for his hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing.

After _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ , it’s Zeke’s turn to pick and he, unsurprisingly – to everyone except maybe Bellamy – chooses _Miracle on 34 th Street_, which gets them through another two hours. Clarke’s starting to realize that they probably won’t get around to everyone today, but there’s always tomorrow.

“Sash, you’re up,” Wells announces when the last scene fades to the credits, and she pushes herself into a sitting position from where she had been laying down with her head in his lap.

Raven groans. “Like we don’t all know which one she’ll pick.”

“You mean like we know which one _you’ll_ pick?” Clarke counters in a teasing voice. Raven doesn’t respond, just sticks her tongue out.

Hugh Grant’s voice soon fills the air. _“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere.”_

A moment later, she feels Bellamy tense behind her and half-turns to look up at him.

“You OK?”

He’s staring straight ahead at the TV but at her question he shakes his head. “Fine.”

She frowns at the tense look on his face. “Obviously not. What’s wrong?”

The others have picked up on their conversation and are watching them instead of the movie, Sasha with the remote still in her hand.

Bellamy sighs. “Octavia borrowed this movie from a friend the Christmas before our mom died,” he explains. “They both loved it, I don’t know how many times they watched it…”

“I’m sorry,” Sasha apologizes, a frown on her face. “We’ll switch.”

“No, no,” he quickly replies. “It’s fine, I just wasn’t prepared and it brought back some memories. I’ve actually never seen the whole movie, I was seventeen back then, way too cool to watch some romantic Christmas drama with my mom and kid sister.”

Sasha still looks hesitant. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Bellamy tells her determinedly. “I want to watch it.”

And he does relax, leaning his head against the top of Clarke’s and wrapping his arm tighter around her, his hand coming to rest against her stomach. He laughs at Bill Nighy’s cringe-worthy cover of _Love is All Around_ , snorts when Kris Marshall tries to flirt but ends up insulting the wedding caterer, and Clarke thinks she hears him sniffle a little when Liam Neeson starts crying while talking about his stepson and dead wife with Emma Thompson.

“OK, this might be the most star-packed movie I’ve ever watched,” he mumbles as Keira Knightley opens the door to reveal Andrew Lincoln with his boom box and huge flash cards. “That’s the guy from _The Walking Dead_ , right? I thought he looked familiar…”

“Yes, shhh, this is the best part!”

When _God Only Knows_ starts playing on repeat and the loving reunions become hundreds of little squares that eventually turn into a heart before the screen fades to black, it’s almost nine thirty.

“What do you say, babe?” Wells asks Sasha when Raven announces a break and heads in the direction of the bathroom. “Time to head back to the hotel soon?”

They aren’t joining the others for breakfast in the morning, since Sasha doesn’t want to miss the special Christmas buffet that the hotel offers, but they do still have to get up pretty early to get back for the gift exchange.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” she agrees. “Christmas Eve present time?”

“Definitely,” Clarke agrees, getting up from the couch to sit down next to the tree. At Bellamy’s questioning look, she explains. “Since I’m the host, I’m in charge of handing out gifts. So I’ll pick at random until everyone has one each tonight.”

“Are we doing presents already?” Raven asks, returning from the bathroom. “It’s not even ten!”

“Some of us are still a little jetlagged and have more than fifty feet to their beds,” Wells replies, and she sighs.

“Fine.”

“Anybody want some leftovers?” Zeke wonders, getting to his feet.

“Are you seriously hungry again?” Raven gives him an incredulous look, but he just shrugs.

“Not starving or anything, but I could eat.”

“Heat me up some egg rolls and spinach dumplings, please,” Clarke says.

“I could go for some of the chicken with cashews,” Bellamy adds.

“Wells? Sasha?”

They look at each other for a moment and then Sasha shrugs.

“We can share a plate of Moo Shu chicken,” Wells says, and Zeke nods before heading into the kitchen.

“Nothing for you, babe?” he calls over the counter, but Raven shakes her head.

“OK, I’m getting started on this while you do that,” Clarke announces, reaching for a bright pink box under the Christmas tree. “For… Sasha from Zeke.”

Sasha holds out her hands and Clarke throws the gift across the room.

“Oh, if there’s something fragile that shouldn’t be tossed around,” Wells tells Bellamy, who’s eyes have widened, “be sure to say that.”

He thinks for a moment. “No, I think everything should survive that.”

By the time Zeke returns with the food – carrying two plates in each hand, waiter-style – Clarke has returned to her spot on the couch and everyone has a present in front of them.

“Here we go,” Zeke says, putting the plates down on the table. “Where’s my present?”

Raven gives him a smirk. “You snooze, you lose. It’s mine now.”

He sits down next to her before wrapping one arm tightly around her and using his other hand to tickle her mercilessly.

“Say you give.”

Raven squirms for a moment, determinedly clamping her mouth shut to not let out the laughter that’s obviously bubbling up, but does surrender after less than a minute.

“Fine, I give!”

Zeke lets her go and holds out his hand for the present, which she hands over with a huff.

“Babe, this is _your_ present to me,” he notes, and she shrugs.

“Maybe I want it back?”

Zeke just shakes his head and starts unwrapping the gift, which works as a sort of starting signal for everyone else.

Clarke is just pulling the paper away from her gift – from Wells and Sasha – when Bellamy lets out a laugh next to her. She looks over at the mug he’s just unwrapped. “ _History buff_ ,” she reads out loud.

“ _I’d find you more interesting if you were dead_ ,” Bellamy finishes. “Thanks, Raven, I love it.”

Raven beams at both of them across the table. “I thought it would go well with Clarke’s little mug collection,” she says.

“What do you think of yours, Clarke?” Sasha asks, a smug look on her face.

Clarke looks down at her own present. “I… what is it?”

She turns the clear plastic packaging over in her hands. Inside are what look like narrow, purple sticks that appear to be plastic. There looks to have been a label on one side, but it’s been peeled off.

Wells and Sasha are both smiling impossibly wide.

“I was hoping you’d pick that one tonight,” Wells says.

“Seriously, what is it?”

“You’ll just have to wait to find out until you open the other part of the present,” he tells her.

Clarke shoots him an annoyed look. “No fair.”

Sasha laughs. “You should have picked the big green box instead.”

“Now I’m going to be thinking about this all night,” Clarke complains, putting her present down on the table in front of her.

“Promise I’ll distract you,” Bellamy says in her ear, and she feels a shiver run down her spine in anticipation.

“Good.”

“OK, we should really head out,” Sasha says, getting to her feet. “We’ll be back bright and early tomorrow, don’t start opening presents without us!”

“We make no promises,” Raven says with a smirk and Zeke rolls his eyes.

Clarke gets up too and walks Wells and Sasha to the door. “Come on, Wells, tell me, please?” she wheedles. “It’s seriously going to drive me crazy.”

But he just laughs and wags his eyebrows at her. “I’m sure you can find something to keep your mind off it.”

She sighs, considering pushing the issue a bit more, but she knows that when Wells has made up his mind, there’s no changing it.

“Your boyfriend sucks,” she tells Sasha instead, pulling the other woman into a hug.

Sasha laughs and hugs her back. “I promise you’re going to love it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Clarke hugs Wells too and they leave.

When she returns to the living room, the wrapping paper has been cleared away and Bellamy, Raven and Zeke are lounging on the couch, talking about board games. Bellamy’s present for Zeke, the beer game, is sitting on the table.

Clarke slumps down in her old spot.

“You’re not calling it a night yet, are you?” Raven asks. “It’s not even ten.”

“Maybe not quite yet,” Clarke replies. She’s tired, but she also knows that she probably won’t get a lot of sleep anyway. “But I don’t think I’m up for another movie.”

Raven thinks for a moment. “Christmas episodes of _Friends_?” she then suggests.

Clarke lights up. “Yes please. The one with the holiday armadillo?”

“Obviously,” Raven snorts. “And night of the living dead Christmas trees?”

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Bellamy asks Zeke, who laughs.

“Unfortunately, yes, but I do have a bit more experience with these two than you,” he says.

“Come on, you must have watched _Friends_?” Clarke insists.

“Of course,” Bellamy confirms. “That doesn’t actually help.”

“It’s different Christmas themed episodes,” she explains. “The episode where Ross can’t get a Santa costume for his Christmas with Ben, and shows up dressed as an armadillo…”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that one. And Joey’s Superman.”

“Exactly. And then the episode where Joey works as a Christmas tree salesman and Phoebe feels sorry for all the trees that get sent to the chipper and they all end up at Monica’s apartment.”

His brow furrows. “I don’t remember that one.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re about to get a reminder,” Raven says, grabbing the remote and flipping through the episodes of season three. “Let’s start with that one.”

She laughs along with the others, but soon, Clarke finds her eyelids drooping and she has to fight to keep them open. She’s vaguely aware of the TV turning off, silence spreading for a moment before Raven speaks.

“Why don’t you get her to bed? We’ll clear up the plates and stuff.”

She forces her eyes open. “It’s fine, I’m awake.”

Raven gives her a doubtful look. “You want to try that standing up?”

Clarke huffs and pushes herself to her feet. Sure, she wobbles slightly, Bellamy’s hand closing around her wrist to keep her steady, but she’s upright.

“Yeah, no,” Raven says, shaking her head. “Go to bed. Sleep.”

For a moment, Clarke considers arguing, but she really is tired… maybe she can actually sleep.

“Fine. See you in the morning.”

Bellamy wraps an arm around her shoulders as they head off in the direction of the bedroom, and she happily leans against him, letting him more or less lead her.

“Those sleepless nights finally catching up with you, huh?” he asks after closing the door behind them. “Think you can stay upright long enough to brush your teeth?”

She tries to elbow him in the side, but it probably comes off more like a nudge. “Of course.”

He chuckles. “OK then, bathroom is all yours.”

Clarke steps out of his half-embrace, instantly missing his warm body against her side, and goes into the bathroom.

She immediately dims the lights, but still feels them waking her up a little. The fresh toothpaste and warm water against her face adds to that, and by the time she leaves the bathroom, she’s more or less awake.

Bellamy has removed the bedspread and closed the blinds towards the street in her absence, and she tugs off her dress and leggings as she rounds the bed, not even bothering with her bra before sliding between the sheets.

“Ah, heaven,” she sighs as she sinks into the mattress.

He laughs quietly. “Go to sleep.”

She just hums in reply and rolls onto her side, making sure her phone’s plugged into the charger on the nightstand. She’s already feeling the underlying hum of anxiety that’s been keeping her awake the last few nights, even though she’s still so tired her limbs just want to sink into the bed and never move again.

She gets rid of her bra and panties just as the water turns off in the bathroom, and a moment later, Bellamy’s back in the room, unbuttoning his shirt. He hangs it up on one of the hooks on the back of the bathroom door before discarding his slacks as well and climbing into bed next to her.

“I thought you’d be out like a light,” he notes when she scoots closer to him.

“Nope,” she replies, sliding a hand across his stomach and throwing one leg over his.

He turns his head to meet her lips, but keeps the kiss infuriatingly chaste. “You need to sleep,” he tells her when he pulls back.

Clarke hums. “I’d sleep better after a couple of orgasms…”

He laughs at that. “Just a couple, huh? No pressure?”

She lets her hand slide lower, palming him through his boxers. “I’d settle for one.”

He’s still soft under her hand, but he jerks his hips against her once before rolling onto his side and pulling her flush against him.

“I think I can do better than that.”

He kisses her again, their tongues sliding together lazily at first, but then Clarke buries her fingers in his hair, holding him to her, and he trails a hand up her side to cover her breast, palm coarse against her nipple. She moans into the kiss, her back arching against his touch, and then it turns into a battle for dominance that neither of them can, or really want to, win.

She pulls him with her as she rolls onto her back, loving the feeling of his body pressed against hers, and when he grinds down against her, she can tell that every part of his anatomy is definitely getting with the program.

Bellamy breaks the kiss after a little while longer, giving her a smirk as he hovers above her.

“Now, about those orgasms…”

She can’t help but laugh as he starts moving down her body, but it quickly turns into a gasp when his tongue circles her nipple before he pulls it into his mouth. He doesn’t linger long, soon moving to her other breast where he repeats the motion at the same time as he slides one finger up her slit. She arches her hips against him and he takes the hint, pushing the finger inside her.

Clarke whimpers when he releases her nipple a few minutes later, and he presses a kiss to the underside of her breast.

“You want me to get you off like this?” he mumbles against her skin, curling his finger inside her and grazing her clit with his thumb, making her jerk against him. “Or you want my mouth on you?”

Honestly, she’ll take anything at this point, and she knows it’ll be beyond good whatever he does… but she does love coming with his tongue inside her or his lips wrapped around her clit.

“Mouth,” she gets out as he sucks a mark into her ribcage, and Bellamy chuckles.

“Whatever my Princess wants.”

He continues down her stomach, excruciatingly slowly, exploring every inch of her. When she finally feels his hot breath against her clit, she’s so keyed up with anticipation that she thinks she might come just from that. Then he circles the nub with his tongue before pressing down just lightly, and her hands close around the sheet.

“Oh God…”

He huffs a laugh. “Just Bellamy’s fine, no need for titles.”

Clarke chooses to ignore that, instead sliding her fingers into his hair and arching her hips against him.

Normally, he likes to take his time eating her out, tease her. He can bring her right to the edge just to let her cool off and then repeat it again, over and over. It’s extremely frustrating, but secretly she kind of likes it, likes that he can play her body like a finely tuned instrument.

Now, though, he’s pulling out all the stops, using every little trick he’s picked up over the last few weeks to have her shaking within minutes, and with a final press of his thumb against her clit, his tongue pushed as deeply inside her as it can go, she falls apart with a loud moan.

She’s still trembling when he moves up her body and kisses her deeply.

“Good?” Bellamy murmurs against her lips, and she nods, wrapping an arm around his neck.

“You’re seriously way too good at that.”

He must have removed his boxers at some point, because she feels his now fully hard dick slide against her curls when he sinks down further on top of her.

“Hope we didn’t alert your guests to our… activities,” he notes, pressing a kiss to her collar bone.

“They’ve stayed here before, I’ve never heard anything from their room,” Clarke replies. “The closets and guest bathroom are between the bedrooms, I think we’re good.”

He hums against her throat before pushing himself up on one elbow and reaching for the drawer in the nightstand.

“Wait,” she blurts out before she can really think, her hand closing around his wrists. He raises an eyebrow at her. “I… I have an IUD. And I’m clean…”

Bellamy just stares at her for a long moment. “Me too. I mean, not the IUD part, but… are you sure?”

She nods in response, hooking a heel around his thigh and pulling him closer. “Please, I just want to feel you…”

He nods once before leaning down and kissing her, and then he’s pushing forward, slowly sliding into her without any barriers between them for the first time.

He breaks the kiss once he bottoms out, leaning his forehead against hers. “Oh, fuck.”

“OK?” Clarke asks.

“Fucking amazing,” he assures her. “It’s just been a while since… don’t want this to be over too soon.”

“Definitely not,” she agrees, pulling him down for another kiss.

For a long moment, they stay like that, bodies still, mouths moving together in an ancient dance. Then Bellamy shifts, pulling out halfway before pushing back inside, and they both moan at the feeling.

He sets a slow pace, his lips only leaving hers to press against her throat, shoulders, wrap around her nipple, and then returning to her mouth. It feels more intimate than anything they’ve shared before, and not just because of the lack of a condom – there’s something in the air, a bubble wrapped around them, feelings washing over them with each thrust and kiss.

They’ve had sex since they said those three little words, of course, but somehow, this almost feels like the first time.

When he breaks the kiss after what feels like an eternity, pulling out of her and sitting back on his knees, Clarke can’t help but whimper.

“Turn over,” he tells her, eyes dark.

They’ve done doggy before, and while she usually gets off pretty easily in that position, it’s not one of her absolute favorites, simply due to the lack of other interaction it means. She loves watching him, seeing his emotions and reactions on his face, loves that he can see what he does to her.

She does as he asks, though, getting on all fours and giving him a look over her shoulder. Instead of moving into position behind her, though, Bellamy places a hand on her lower back and reaches for a pillow with the other.

“Lay down.”

She frowns but lowers herself to the bed, the pillow bent double under her stomach. He moves between her legs and leans down above her, one elbow against the bed next to her. She twists her head around, but she can’t really reach to kiss him like this, so she pushes herself up a little, wraps a hand around his neck to pull him to her and he meets her lips eagerly.

As they kiss, she feels his hand slide down her back, over her butt, and then he’s positioning himself at her entrance and pushing into her. The slight downward angle is apparently great for hitting her G spot, and when he does, she has to break the kiss to gasp for air.

“I thought you might like that one,” he mumbles against her throat before kissing a spot beneath her ear.

He sets a faster pace now, hips snapping against hers in time with the kisses he peppers her neck, shoulders and back with. He leans down further, so she’s almost flat against the bed, only her stomach and hips raised due to the pillow. He’s not quite pressed against her, but she can feel his body barely an inch above her, the warmth cocooning her between him and the bed.

It’s not long before the continuous stimulation of her G spot has Clarke teetering on the edge again.

“Please, I need, I…”

She can’t form an actual sentence, but Bellamy seems to realize what she wants anyway, since he slides a hand up her thigh and between her legs, pressing down on her clit at the same time as he thrusts into her with a bit more force.

She flies over the edge with a cry that she’s sure must carry to the guest bedroom, no matter the rooms between them. She buries her face in the pillow beneath her, letting it muffle the rest of her scream as her whole body feels like it quakes with the force of her climax. He curses above her, thrusts into her once more and then he stills, spilling deep inside her as her walls continue to convulse around him.

He knows by now that she likes to remain close for a little while after, so he stays where he is, moving slightly so he’s pressed against her back, burying his face against her throat as they both come back down.

“Can you even breathe?” he asks, voice shaking slightly, after a moment, and she turns her head to the side, sucking in a deep breath.

“No problem.”

He chuckles and shifts so he can kiss her. The angle is awkward and her arm, which is bent under her, is starting to fall asleep, but she returns the kiss anyway.

When she breaks it after a few minutes, he presses his lips to her shoulder briefly before finally pulling out of her and getting up, disappearing into the bathroom.

Clarke has no energy to get out of bed, so she just rolls over, throws the pillow onto the floor and cuddles into the mattress. She hears him return a moment later and then feels him behind her, one arm sliding around to wrap around her waist.

“Think you can sleep now?” he asks quietly, just a hint of teasing in his voice, and she nods.

Though really, she’s far from sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure how Friends ended up in yet another fic… I mean, I love the show, but I’m not some crazy fan, honestly! I was just googling best Christmas episodes of TV shows and the one with the holiday armadillo kept popping up, and here we are!
> 
> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	17. With Candy Canes and Silver Lanes Aglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, hope you’re all staying safe out there…
> 
> The last Christmas chapter, wrapping up the holidays. Also lots of Raven/Clarke interaction, and Clarke makes a big decision…
> 
> Chapter title from “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas”. I think the version I’m thinking of is the one with Johnny Mathis, but there seems to be a lot of them

Despite the fact that her limbs feel like they weigh about a hundred pounds each and her mind is fuzzy, Clarke just cannot sleep.

When Bellamy rolls away from her and onto his back, his deep, even breathing indicating that he’s sound asleep, she quietly slips out of bed. She pulls on a robe hanging on the bathroom door before leaving the room, closing the door slowly behind her.

The apartment is dark, the only light coming from the Christmas tree in the corner, the streetlights outside and the buildings across the water. She goes into the kitchen and pours some milk into a mug before popping it into the microwave. Maybe some warm milk can help her sleep.

She opens the microwave door a second before it beeps, not wanting to risk the sound waking up anyone else, and brings the mug with her to the couch. Bastet is curled up in one corner, and she sits down next to the cat.

“There you are,” she says quietly, running a hand over the soft fur. “Where have you been hiding all day, huh?”

The last time she saw the cat, she dashed out from under the couch just after Wells and Sasha arrived.

“Under our bed,” Raven’s voice comes from the kitchen, making her jump a little, despite her friend keeping it low. “She shot out from there when we came into the room.”

“What are you doing up?” Clarke asks, getting up from the couch and moving over to the breakfast bar where she leans her elbows against the cool wood.

Her friend shrugs and opens the fridge, pulling out a carton of Chinese food. “Wanted a late night snack,” she says as she dumps the content onto a plate and opens the microwave.

“I thought you weren’t hungry,” Clarke notes.

Raven turns, leaning back against the counter next to the microwave, and smirks. “I wasn’t, now I am. Burned a bunch of calories, so.”

Clarke sighs. “I did not need to know that.”

“Oh, please,” Raven snorts. “Don’t think we didn’t hear the two of you earlier.”

She feels heat rise up her throat. “Oh God.”

“Relax, babe,” Raven tells her, grabbing the warmed up food and rounding the breakfast bar. “You know this stuff doesn’t bother me, I’m just glad you’ve obviously found a guy who knows what he’s doing. Twice, huh?”

Clarke buries her face in her hands for a moment. “Any way we can _not_ talk about this?”

Raven laughs quietly as she sits down on the couch, and Clarke joins her.

“Fine. What are you doing up anyway? You’re really having trouble sleeping?”

She nods. “Yeah. I mean, I am _so_ tired, but it’s like my brain just won’t shut off. As soon as I relax even just a little, the thoughts start churning…”

Raven hums as she chews. “All because of the whole no secrets thing?”

Clarke shrugs. “I think so. It feels like all I do these days is lie to him, and I hate it. When I have a Transfer and he’s home, I say I’m meeting you, when we were talking about Wells, I told him we dated back in high school, even when I told him about our Christmas traditions, I lied and said I had an ancestor from Sweden to explain that part.”

Raven rubs her back. “I know it sucks. You need to do something about it, this won’t hold in the long run.”

“I know.”

They sit in silence for a while, Raven eating her food and Clarke sipping her warm milk.

“I know that there isn’t but…” Clarke starts eventually, “do you think there’s a way to… trick the Number?”

She keeps her eyes on her hands wrapped around the mug, avoiding Raven’s scrutinizing look.

“No,” her friend finally says. “You’ve heard the same stories I have, babe – people locking themselves up, not leaving the room, not interacting with anyone, not even eating or drinking anything for fear of choking or something… it’s always pointless.”

She has heard those stories, of course. But still…

“I can look into it, if you want,” Raven offers after another silent moment. “I didn’t, with Finn, for several reasons… but there’s a lot of information out there, these days. If there’s anything to find, I’ll find it.”

Clarke reaches out to squeeze Raven’s hand. “Thank you.”

She nods, teeth worrying her lip a little. “Just… don’t get your hopes up?”

“No, I know, I won’t,” Clarke assures her, pausing before somewhat switching the subject. “Have you ever thought about telling someone?”

Raven’s eyebrows shoot up. “You know I have.”

“No, not the Soul Keeper thing. I meant telling someone that they, you know… that they’re dying. As in soon, not at some point in the distant future.”

Raven watches her intently as she finishes the last bite on her plate.

“I have,” she then says. “And I did, actually.”

“You did? What happened?” Why doesn’t she know this? She thought they told each other big things like this.

Raven moves over on the couch so she’s facing Clarke and pulls her knees to her chest. “Remember Chicago in the seventies? I was working at that charity that helped kids with parents in prison?”

Clarke nods to show that she does.

“There was this little boy, his dad was in jail but his mom was, like, a supermom, she was working two jobs, making sure her kids were clothed and fed, that they worked hard in school… I met his older sister first, she was thirteen. Had over seventy years to live. But the first time she brought her little brother… he was just ten, and only had two years left. I mean, I had, like, a hundred and fifty years of experience by then, there wasn’t a lot that got to me, but this kid… he had so much energy, he was so _alive_ … he dreamed of becoming a lawyer to help other kids’ dads stay out of prison…”

She trails off and Clarke can see that even now, more than forty years later, the memory affects her. She reaches out to squeeze her hand, and Raven smiles.

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I was there for a while, got to know his mom, we became sort of friends… I think you might have met her, actually, not that I expect you to remember that. When I was being relocated, Ty, that was his name, had just turned twelve and had three months to live. I knew pretty much everything about him and his family by then. I knew the one thing in the world he wanted more than anything – apart from his dad getting out of prison which wasn’t going to happen since he was guilty of the crime he was convicted for and wasn’t getting parole for at least thirty years – was to see Kareem Abdul-Jabbar play for the Lakers. He loved basketball.

So a few days before I was leaving, I sat his mom down and told her everything. I honestly had no idea if she believed me at the time… I gave her three plane tickets, return trip to LA, for her and the kids, as well as VIP tickets to a game with special backstage access to meet the players. I had booked a hotel room for them too. I didn’t see her again before I left, but I got to say goodbye to Ty and his sister. I called the hotel after, to ask if they had checked in, and they had. I got a letter from his mom a few months later, after he had passed, where she thanked me for telling her. She sent me a picture of Ty on Kareem’s shoulders, his whole face one big smile…”

She lets out a deep sigh.

“You did a good thing,” Clarke tells her.

“No, I know that,” Raven replies. “It just… it sucks, you know, that we can’t do that for everyone. I don’t know about you, but when I meet someone, even just in passing on the street, who only has a few months or years to live, especially if it’s someone young, I just want to grab them and tell them to do what they want, not put off all their dreams for later, because they might not get a later.”

Clarke completely understands that, her thoughts going to the teenage girl she passed in the park the day she and Bellamy first met.

“I know what you mean.”

“But this?” Raven waits until she looks up. “This is different.”

“You think I should tell him.”

“I can’t tell you what to do, but if it was me, I would.”

Clarke considers that for a moment.

“Did Finn know?” she then asks. “Did you tell him when he…?”

Raven shakes her head. “Not for a long time. After I told him about the Soul Keeper thing, he actually asked me not to say anything about it. He said he didn’t want to live his life just waiting to die, or something. But at the end… I think he noticed that I was acting strange, and he actually asked me outright. So he knew.”

Silence stretches between them again, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

“I asked him,” Clarke starts after a long moment. “The other day, I asked Bellamy what he would do if he only had six months to live.”

“Whoa.” Raven’s eyes widen. “What’d he say?”

“Well, at first he was like, I don’t have any money, I still have to live so I can’t stop working. So he said he’d just spend as much time as possible with his friends… me… probably drop out of school.”

“Standard answer.”

“Yeah. So I pushed, said that if money wasn’t an issue, you won the lottery, then what? And he said he’d want to travel, go to Italy and Greece, all the places he’s read about… and the thing is, he could. I could do that for him, I have more than enough money for it…”

“You want to try to convince him to just take six months off and travel the world with you?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t think he’d go for that, not with me paying for everything. Not without a reason.”

“And if you tell him the truth?”

Clarke leans her head back against the couch and stares up at the ceiling. “I honestly don’t know. Now do you see why I’m not sleeping?”

“I feel you, babe,” Raven says, and a moment later Clarke feels her head come down on her shoulder. “I think you should just tell him everything.”

“Yeah?”

She wonders if that’s what she actually wanted to hear, because she feels lighter, somehow.

“Yeah. You’re not going to make it another seven months with him _not_ telling him, this secret is killing you. Metaphorically speaking, of course. And I know there’s absolutely no way you’re walking away from him.”

Clarke lets out a humorless laugh at that.

“I think you’re right.”

“I’m always right. It’s nothing new.”

They sit in silence for a long moment, Clarke watching the lights twinkling on the other side of East River without really seeing them.

“He’d want to make things right with his sister too,” she says eventually.

“They had a falling out, right? Also pretty standard, making amends or whatever.”

She hasn’t actually told Raven what Bellamy said about Octavia, since it’s not her story to tell, but her friend isn’t stupid. “Yeah. He hasn’t talked to her for over seven years. Doesn’t even know where she is.”

“Ouch.”

“I’ve found her.”

Raven sits up straight so she can look at her. “You have?”

Clarke shrugs. “It wasn’t even hard, actually. She’s on Facebook, her name’s not exactly common… she’s in Dublin.”

“Huh. That could play into your hands, what with the whole travel thing.”

She considers that for a moment, realizing that Raven is – again – right.

“I guess so. If he does agree to the trip, I can just surprise him with his sister, and if he doesn’t, I can tell him I know where she is and we can hopefully plan to at least go see her, then I can just… tell him we’re not going home until we’ve been to every single place he wants to go. You know, assuming he doesn’t run the other way when I tell him I’ve been lying to him.”

Raven ignores the last bit. “So basically kidnap him?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Good plan. So when are you going to tell him? Right away? Not now, obviously, but tomorrow?”

Clarke immediately shakes her head. “I don’t want to ruin the holidays for him… maybe after New Years?”

“Probably a good idea,” Raven agrees. “Just don’t wait too long, he might need some time to get used to the whole thing, and with the travel plans and all… the clock is ticking.”

“I know… hey, how did you tell Finn? Or Wick?”

“Well, in both those cases, we had been together, or at least known each other, for six or seven years by the time I told them,” Raven says. “So it probably wasn’t that much of a stretch to believe.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to be any help for me.”

“No… you have photos, though, right?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah, but these days, anyone with a computer and basic Photoshop skills can fake photos.”

“Hmm… do you have any Transfers coming up that’ll be out in the open?”

“You want me to take him to a Transfer?” Clarke asks incredulously.

Raven shrugs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m not saying start with that, but if he really doesn’t believe you. So anything that might work?”

Her phone’s still on the nightstand in the bedroom. “I don’t know, I’ll check in the morning. But that’s an absolute last resort.”

“I can be there if you think it’ll help,” Raven offers. “And Zeke. Strength in numbers?”

Clarke squeezes her hand. “I’ll think about it.”

“So are you good? Worked through everything?”

Clarke considers the question for a moment. “I think so.”

“Good. Then you need to sleep, because in eight hours or so, I am going to be dragging your ass out of bed.”

She laughs but lets Raven pull her up from the couch and along towards the bedrooms. Outside the doors, she pulls her friend into a hug.

“Thank you.”

Raven hugs her back tightly for a moment. “Always, you know that.”

With a final squeeze of her friend’s hand, Clarke sneaks back into the bedroom. Bellamy hasn’t moved from the spot she left him in and she quietly slips between the sheets again, scooting over so she can curl up against him, tucking her head in underneath his chin. He turns towards her in his sleep, one arm coming around her, and lets out a sigh.

Clarke’s asleep within minutes.

-100-

Despite Raven’s promise (threat), Clarke wakes up all on her own the next morning. It’s already light in the room, and Bellamy’s side of the bed is empty. She stretches leisurely for a moment, relishing the feeling of being well rested for the first time in a week, before throwing the comforter off and getting up.

She’s already picked out today’s outfit, so she pulls on a pair of panties and puts on a strapless bra before stepping into the soft, black leggings and taking the gold knitted sweater dress off the hanger. It has a bardot neckline with a slight V that emphasizes her collar bones. She completes the ensemble with a red belt at the waist and a matching set of earrings and necklace shaped like snowflakes.

When she opens the bedroom door, she’s hit with the smell of breakfast – eggs, bacon, pancakes… she makes her way into the kitchen, where Bellamy is cutting up fruit and Raven is laying the finished bacon on a plate. Zeke is setting the dining table on the other side of the breakfast bar.

“Why didn’t anybody wake me?” Clarke asks when nobody notices her.

They all look up, a smile spreading on Bellamy’s face and a smirk on Raven’s.

“Morning, Princess,” he says. “Did you sleep OK?”

“I slept great,” she replies, joining him at the counter and reaching up for a morning kiss.

“I wanted to wake you up,” Raven pipes in behind them. “But he wouldn’t let me.”

“She needed to sleep,” he defends himself. “You actually looked peaceful when I got up, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I did need to sleep, so thank you for keeping Raven away.”

“If you hadn’t gotten up by the time breakfast was done, I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop her,” he admits, and Clarke laughs.

“Definitely not,” Raven agrees. “You have perfect timing, actually, because breakfast _is_ done.”

They all grab something off the counter and settle in at the dining table.

“Seriously, how none of you weigh three hundred pounds is beyond me,” Bellamy says as Raven starts loading her plate with pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon.

“Good metabolism,” she replies with a smirk.

“Plus we spend, like, an hour a day in the gym in our building,” Zeke adds, passing the bacon to Clarke.

“Yes, thank God for that place, I would never have the energy to actually _go outside_ to find a gym,” Raven says.

“And it’s not like we eat this way every day,” Clarke notes. “Back to normal on Thursday.”

“Don’t remind me,” Raven complains. “I wish it could be Christmas every day.”

“No you don’t,” Clarke retorts. “Because then you really _would_ weigh three hundred pounds.”

That makes them all laugh, and they continue eating, occasionally launching into some other topic.

They’ve just put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher when the doorbell rings.

“Present time!” Raven exclaims as Clarke goes to let Wells and Sasha in.

“Hey guys,” she greets them, accepting a hug from Sasha.

“Morning,” Wells replies. “So how did it go last night, did you manage to get your mind off your present?”

Clarke just stares at him for a moment, before she realizes what he means. Sasha starts laughing.

“He did say you’d be able to forget it,” she notes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke grumbles. “But now that you’ve reminded me, I really need to know what that thing is!”

“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Wells suggests, ushering the women into the living room ahead of him. “Morning, all.”

A chorus of ‘morning’ meets them.

Wells and Sasha settle down on the couch with the others, and Clarke reclaims her spot by the Christmas tree to continue her duty of present distributor.

“OK,” she says, reaching for the closest box under the tree. “For Zeke from Wells.”

She throws the box to Zeke, who catches it easily, and grabs another one.

Soon enough, all the presents from under the tree have made their way across the room to their respective recipients, and Clarke gets to her feet again.

The present opening and subsequent tossing of crumpled up wrapping paper brings Bastet out from her hiding spot, and Bellamy plays with her, throwing paper balls for her to chase in every direction. After a while, to Clarke’s surprise, the cat jumps onto the couch and stretches out in the small space between her own leg and Bellamy’s, seemingly falling asleep.

Clarke deliberately saves the other part of Wells and Sasha’s present for last, wanting to draw out the excitement, but soon, her other presents have been opened – a beautiful bracelet from Bellamy that she’s sure was much too expensive, a pretty dress and another mug for her collection from Raven (with a sad looking T-rex and the text _If you’re happy and you know it… oh…),_ and the box set of a book series that she’s been meaning to read from Zeke.

She finally picks up the big green box and weighs it in her hands. It’s not too heavy, but definitely heavier than a perfume gift box, which is what it brings to mind.

“Just open it!” Raven exclaims, and Clarke looks up to realize that everyone else has finished opening their presents and are watching her.

“Fine, fine,” she agrees, sticking her finger under the taped down flap on one edge. Inside is a black box with the image of a bulky pen on the front. “3Doodler Pro…” she reads on the label.

“We thought it was about time you made your art three-dimensional,” Wells says with a smile and Clarke’s mouth drops open.

“It’s a 3D pen?”

Sasha laughs. “Yup. And those sticks you opened last night are the things you load it with. There are four more packages of those in the box, but we wrapped one individually, hoping you would open that first and get really confused.”

“Evil,” Clarke tells her, but she’s still smiling as she opens the box and peeks inside. “This is amazing, thanks you guys.”

Bellamy leans over Bastet to be able to see, too. “So you can just… draw in air?”

“Here,” Wells says, handing over his phone, which is open to a video on YouTube. “This is how it works.”

Clarke takes the phone and they watch as people draw everything from a basic square to a working pair of scissors and a model airplane that actually flies.

“Yeah, that is seriously cool,” Bellamy says when the video finishes. “But it might take you some time to get the hang of it.”

“Oh yeah,” she agrees, taking the pen out of the box and turning it over in her hand.

“How about you play with that later?” Raven suggests. “I still haven’t gotten to pick a movie!”

So Clarke reluctantly puts the pen back and closes the box up, putting it away on the dining table so she won’t be tempted.

Meanwhile, Raven is flipping through Netflix, and when Clarke slumps down on the couch again, curling up next to Bellamy, the opening credits of _Die Hard_ are playing.

“Did you like your present?” she asks him quietly.

“I loved it,” he replies with a smile. “How did you even know that was the book? And how did you find it?”

When they had dinner with Miller and Jackson a week and a half ago, Clarke managed to ask Miller if he knew which book that Bellamy’s mom had read to him as a child, while he was in the bathroom. Miller had showed her the dog-eared copy in Bellamy’s book case, the cover barely sticking to the book anymore and a couple of pages missing. She wrote down the title and author, and managed to find a first edition copy at a used book store online. It arrived just two days ago.

“I might have had some help,” she admits. “I asked Miller.”

A look of realization spreads on his face. “So _that’s_ what you two were whispering about when I got back from the bathroom?”

Clarke just shrugs. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He leans in for a soft but quick kiss. “It was perfect. And how about you? I mean, I know I obviously can’t compete with that awesome pen, but…”

“I love it,” she assures him, raising her hand to look at the bracelet that glitters against her wrist. “But it’s too much, really.”

“Come on, you can’t tell me that book was cheap,” Bellamy says. “And it’s just silver, it’s not that expensive.”

The book _hadn’t_ been cheap, but she knows that she can afford it.

She doesn’t want to argue about it, though, especially not today.

“Well, I love it either way,” she says, turning around a little so she can see the TV and leaning back against his chest. His arms come around her, pulling her closer, and he leans his head on top of hers.

“I’m glad.”

After Raven, it’s Wells turn to pick a movie, and as usual, he goes for _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. About fifteen minutes into the movie, Zeke makes his excuses about needing to check in with the community center and leaves. Clarke watches Bellamy closely, but he doesn’t seem to question it. And why would he? He doesn’t know that everyone in the room has a sort of secret life that he knows nothing about.

With Wells’ movie, they’ve come full circle, and it’s Clarke’s turn again. As Wells hands over the remote, Raven gets to her feet.

“We all know what you’re going to pick, so I’m getting started on dinner,” she announces, heading into the kitchen.

“Do you want help?” Bellamy calls after her, but she shakes her head.

“Wells will help me, right Wells? You don’t want to watch this one either.”

Wells seems to hesitate for a moment, probably because the movie is also one of Sasha’s favorites. She rolls her eyes at him, though. “Go, it’s better you make yourself useful than spend the next two hours grumbling next to me.”

“What on earth are we watching?” Bellamy asks incredulously as Wells joins Raven in the kitchen.

In response, Clarke clicks to start the movie.

“ _The Holiday_?” Bellamy says. “What’s so bad about it?”

“Nothing,” Raven calls from the kitchen. “But we’ve had to watch it every Christmas for the last few years, so we’re kind of sick of it by now.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Well, I like Jack Black, so I like it.”

Sasha lets out a sigh at his words. “Perfect boyfriend, right there.”

He ducks his head at the praise.

“Hey!” Wells indignant voice comes from the kitchen.

“Sorry, babe,” Sasha tells him. “You know I love you, but it’s true.”

By the time the movie’s over, Zeke’s back and it’s time for dinner.

“It’s a good thing you have a big dining table,” Wells notes as they gather around it, the entire surface filled with bowls and platters of food, plates, glasses and cutlery, and a couple of bottles of wine.

“Why do you think I got it?” she asks him with a smirk. “I knew you lot would invade at every opportunity… and everyone’s not even here.”

“Thank God,” Raven adds. “There is absolutely no more room at this table.

The table is technically supposed to seat twelve, so there are empty chairs, but no, there isn’t space for a single more person today.

Clarke’s not sure exactly how, considering Jasper’s not there, but they manage to finish almost all the food, the only thing remaining a few slices of ham and a couple of latkes. She’s extremely glad that she decided to wear leggings with an elastic waist, and she took the belt off somewhere before her second helping of mashed potatoes.

Bellamy’s leaning back in his chair next to her, looking like he might pass out at any moment.

“I cannot get anything more down,” he announces, and Clarke nods in agreement.

“Come on, guys,” Raven says from across the table, though she does look about as stuffed as they are. “We have dessert.”

Clarke glances at her watch – almost seven thirty.

“How about we hold off a little on the dessert?” she suggests. “One more movie, what do you say? Then whoever wants can have some dessert.”

“As long as there’s no more romance,” Raven half-grumbles.

“It’s Bellamy’s turn to pick again, he did alright last time,” Wells notes, getting up from the table and grabbing a couple of dishes before heading into the kitchen.

“How can you move?” Clarke asks him, voice a little whiney even in her own ears, when he returns.

He just laughs and pats her on the shoulder before grabbing her and Bellamy’s plates. “I didn’t take thirds.”

“Shut up…”

She does manage to get up, though, and soon enough, they’re all curled up on the couch again. She pulls her favorite blanket off the back of the couch and spreads it over herself and Bellamy after they’ve gotten situated in the by now familiar position with him leaning against the couch and her against him, both their legs stretched out on the chaise.

“OK, take your pick,” Zeke says, handing Bellamy the remote before claiming his own spot on the opposite chaise next to Raven.

Bellamy opens up Netflix and starts scrolling through the titles in the Christmas category. He goes right to the end before flipping back again, eventually settling on _The Nightmare Before Christmas_.

“Yes!” Raven cheers. “Good choice.”

Zeke wraps up the evening with _The Muppet Christmas Carol_ , everyone forcing down one of Raven’s Christmas cookies and a slice of her eggnog cheesecake as they watch the little furry guys on the screen.

When Wells and Sasha finally say their goodnights, Clarke can’t help but think that it’s been the best Christmas ever.

-100-

Boxing Day is a bit more low key than Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. After another good night’s sleep, Clarke wakes up to actual sunshine streaming into the room and Bellamy warm against her back.

“Morning,” he murmurs into her hair when he realizes that she’s awake.

“Mmmm.” She turns around in his embrace. “Morning.”

He blinks at her slowly, obviously having just woken up himself, and closes the inch or so between them to kiss her. She returns the kiss, scooting even closer and sliding an arm around him. He in turn trails a hand up her leg and under the t-shirt she wore to bed last night. Just as he’s running his thumb over her ribs, the sound of something falling to the floor comes from somewhere in the apartment, and they both freeze.

“Cat or guests?” Bellamy asks quietly after a moment.

Before she can answer, Raven’s muffled voice comes through the door as well. It’s impossible to tell what she’s saying, but at least it answers his question.

Clarke sighs. “I guess we should get up.”

“We could,” he agrees, though instead of doing that he rolls them over and pushes her into the mattress. “Or we could wait a while… it’s not like they know we’re awake.”

“We could… but apparently the walls aren’t as thick as I thought.”

Bellamy stills above her. “You mean they…”

“Heard us, yup.”

“Great.” He groans and drops his head to her shoulder.

“Rain check for tonight?” she suggests, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll have the place all to ourselves again…”

He sighs and rolls off her, flopping onto his back. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Clarke laughs as she sits up on the edge of the bed. “You’d better.”

When they leave the bedroom a little later, they find Raven on the couch, watching cartoons, while Zeke rummages around in the fridge.

“Morning,” Clarke says in greeting, bypassing the kitchen to join Raven.

“Morning,” Zeke replies. “Toast and eggs OK for everyone?”

“Absolutely,” Bellamy replies, joining the other man in the kitchen. “I’ll do the eggs, you do the toast?”

“Deal.”

Clarke looks at Raven, who seems completely engrossed in the TV show.

“So that thud a little while ago, was that Zeke physically kicking you out of the kitchen?” she asks after a moment.

Raven snorts. “No. He scared Bas, and she did a sort of Road Runner impression on the hardwood before taking off into the hallway, where she bumped into the side table by the door and knocked that bowl you keep keys in to the floor. It didn’t break or anything, but the cat might be traumatized. I think she’s hiding under our bed again.”

“She’ll be fine, you know she’s jumpy sometimes.”

“So…” Raven starts, glancing over her shoulder at the guys in the kitchen. She lowers her voice before continuing. “Did you find a Transfer you can take Loverboy to if he refuses to believe you?”

Clarke hasn’t actually had a chance to think about it, since yesterday was so busy.

“Not yet, let me check now,” she says, grabbing her phone from where she put it down on the coffee table just a few minutes ago.

She opens her work app and goes to her schedule. The current day is always the first day on the screen, and then they can see six days into the future, so a week in total. It’s possible to open a larger schedule for the coming month, where all available Transfers are listed, if someone for one reason or another wants to claim a specific Transfer.

She has nothing today, then two a day the rest of the year. Still no weird times, and the ones on Saturday, which is Bellamy’s day off this weekend, are close enough together that she can claim she’s meeting Raven for a coffee in the city. New Year’s Eve might be a bit trickier, she has one at two thirty and then another at five… but Miller, who’s getting back from the Christmas cruise on the 29th, is having a New Year’s party that he’s been trying to rope Bellamy into helping with, so she might try to play to his conscience and get him to spend the afternoon with his roommate, preparing for the evening.

The last day in her current schedule is New Year’s Day, which is technically the first day after the holidays, and Bellamy isn’t working. Like Raven pointed out, she doesn’t want to wait _too_ long… she’s definitely not looking forward to the actual conversation, but she does want to get it over with, so she can hopefully start working on getting Bellamy to agree to let her take him on the trip she’s been planning somewhere in the back of her mind since her talk with Raven.

She knows that there’s a chance he won’t believe her at all, maybe even think she’s crazy or something, possibly decide he wants nothing to do with her anymore… but she tries not to linger on that fear.

She opens the one Transfer she has scheduled on January 1, at four in the afternoon.

“This should work,” she says quietly. “COD: road traffic accident.” She clicks on the coordinates to open the corresponding map. “In the middle of the street at Madison and East 26th.”

“Perfect,” Raven agrees, peaking down at the map on the screen. “That’ll be fairly obvious, even if the victim is in a car. And there’s the park on one side, you shouldn’t look too conspicuous if you hang around for a while before.”

It feels wrong to talk about someone’s death so clinically, but Clarke supposes that’s what happens when you deal with it daily for years and years. You have to distance yourself from it.

“Yeah. OK, unless something changes, I’ll talk to him that morning – not too early, don’t want him to think I’m still drunk or something – and then I’ll take him along to this if I need to. Will you guys be available if I need backup? Or someone to spring me from the loony bin?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, there’s not enough money in the mental health field to deal with every crazy person who claims to know when people are going to die.” Then she nods and squeezes Clarke’s hand. “Of course we’ll be here if you need us.”

They wrap the conversation up just in time, because a moment later, Zeke and Bellamy bring the breakfast over.

Wells and Sasha show up at noon, and they quickly organize the boxes of clothes and things that have been kept in the hallway closet the last few days. They stop to pick up some hygiene products as well as a few multipacks of underwear and socks – which are always needed but not often donated – before heading over to a shelter close by. The woman taking the boxes is all smiles, and Clarke thinks they all leave feeling like they’ve at least done something for others this holiday season…


	18. Nothing More Than Confetti on the Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final holiday chapter – New Year’s Eve! And of course I had to pick this chapter title from “Happy New Year” by ABBA – gotta promote some Swedish music :)
> 
> As you know if you've read my first 100 fic, I have nothing against Echo as a character, which is still true, but she did end up with a slightly less favorable take in this fic, sorry if you're a big Echo fan!
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

In Clarke’s experience, time has a tendency to drag when you’re looking forward to something, and skip by in big chunks when you’re dreading what’s coming.

Somehow, both of these seem to coincide over the next few days. Sometimes, it feels like she blinks and a whole afternoon has just flown by, other times she actually has to double check the time on her phone, because she’s convinced the clock on the wall above the TV must have stopped.

Bellamy’s working again, but without his classes and her homework sessions, which are on hiatus while the kids are on Christmas break, they still get to spend more time together during the days, which she loves. He usually gets home around four thirty, which gives them hours in the early evening to just lounge around, watch movies, or… well, do other things. It seems that telling her about Octavia opened some sort of floodgates in Bellamy and they spend hours and hours talking, exploring each other’s bodies in between.

He tells her about his sister’s first day of school, when her teacher brought her into Bellamy’s classroom in the middle of second period, tears streaming down her face because some kid had teased her about her clothes, which as always came from the thrift shop and were a little too big and too worn. And about how he pushed the little nine-year-old that had done it up against the brick wall behind the school during lunch and calmly, though he was shaking with rage on the inside, told him that if he ever made fun of O again, he’d have to eat his fancy lunch through a straw.

She learns about Octavia’s first real boyfriend, a fifteen-year-old named Atom, of all things, that she brought home in ninth grade. Bellamy spent the entire evening when the couple were watching a movie on the couch in their living room glaring at him. The day after, Octavia furiously yelled at him that Atom had broken up with her because she had a ‘scary brother’, and then she didn’t talk to him for a week.

He talks about his mom for an entire afternoon one day – her dark sense of humor, the clothes she made herself, how she squinted whenever she read but still refused to get glasses, the cloud of flowery perfume that sometimes surrounded her when she was in a good mood. How he, at fourteen, realized that the men that came around late at night and locked the door to her bedroom weren’t her boyfriends…

“I probably should have figured it out sooner than I did,” he admits, fingers busy with a loose thread on the blanket that’s draped over their naked bodies. Their clothes are scattered around the room, neither of them bothering to get dressed after collapsing on the couch an hour or so ago. “It only happened during the periods when she was home during the days, which of course meant that she didn’t have any regular work, so… and it explains why she always brushed off the question whenever O asked about her dad, she probably didn’t even know who he was.” He sighs, his head falling back against the couch. “But who wants to admit that about their mom, you know?”

Clarke wants to comfort him, needs to, so she does the only thing she can think of – crawls into his lap and wraps her arms around him, letting him bury his face against her shoulder. He doesn’t cry, but she feels his breath hitch now and then against her skin, and he stays there, arms wrapped tightly around her, for a long time.

When he pulls away, it’s only to kiss her, hard and demanding, and when she rises up to take him inside her a little later, there’s a kind of raw need to the act that she hasn’t felt with him before. He clings to her, grip painful on her hips – she knows she’ll have bruises tomorrow but she doesn’t care – and for the first time, he finishes without making sure she does first.

He rectifies that right away, of course, by pushing her down on the couch, mouth hot and wet against her breast, two fingers buried deep inside her and thumb rubbing insistent circles against her clit until she’s a panting, writhing mess beneath him as waves of pleasure wash over her.

He slumps down next to her and pulls her half on top of him as she struggles to catch her breath. She reaches behind her to grab the blanket on the floor, where it ended up at some point during the last half hour or so, and pulls it over them again.

Bellamy’s silent until she’s finally breathing normally again, his hand constantly trailing up and down her back under the blanket.

“It was me who found her,” he then says quietly, and Clarke moves a little, propping her chin against his chest so she can look at him. He meets her gaze for a moment before closing his eyes. “I mean, I’m forever grateful that Octavia didn’t have to go through that, but… I’ll never forget that moment, seeing her on the floor in the kitchen…”

“Do you know what happened?” Clarke asks gently when he trails off.

“The doctor said it was a brain aneurysm,” he replies. “He said it would have been over in seconds, that she didn’t feel anything… for a long time after, I was convinced he was lying to make me feel better. I mean, who would tell an eighteen-year-old that just found his mother dead that she’d been in excruciating pain, you know? Or that he could have saved her if only he’d been home when it happened?”

She can absolutely understand that feeling.

“I don’t think he was,” she still says. “Aneurysms _are_ really quick, she might have had a bit of a headache but nothing more than that.”

“I know. I think it was a defense mechanism, to be honest,” Bellamy admits. “To keep the guilt away… I was mad at the doctor instead of being mad at myself for not being there, not getting home earlier… I was just hanging out at Miller’s playing video games, not doing anything important…”

“Hey,” she says, a little sharper than she had intended, and he opens his eyes to look at her. “It wasn’t your fault, you have to know that. You couldn’t have done anything even if you had been there.”

He offers her a half-smile, one hand coming up to cup her cheek and she leans into the touch.

“I know that now,” he assures her. “I went through this crazy guilt trip after O left where I tried to blame myself for every single thing that was wrong with my life. Miller finally snapped, dragged me to his uncle who’s a neurosurgeon and had him explain it in great detail to me. Even if I had been there and she complained about a headache or nausea, I probably wouldn’t have called an ambulance, and even if I did, odds are it wouldn’t have made it in time anyway.”

“Good.” She realizes what she’s said. “Oh God, not ‘good’ that your mom died, ‘good’ that you realized it wasn’t your fault and stopped blaming yourself.”

Bellamy chuckles a little. “I know what you mean, relax.”

She lets out a relieved breath. “Good, I managed to avoid putting my foot in my mouth at the very last second.”

He just rolls his eyes before hiding a huge yawn behind his hand.

“Tired?” Clarke asks, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead, her thumb grazing the Number – 210 today – there briefly.

“Is it too early to call it a night?”

She looks up at the clock. Just a little after ten thirty.

“Who cares?” she says. “So what if we want to go to bed before eleven on a Saturday.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Screw it.”

“Besides, we both have work tomorrow.”

Bellamy nods thoughtfully. “So we’re really just being responsible adults.”

“Exactly.”

She pushes herself off him and gets to her feet, turning towards the windows to take in the night-time view of Manhattan, which she will never get tired off. She hears him get up too and senses him behind her, so when she stretches her arms over her head to work out some kinks in her shoulders and back from the less than comfortable position on the couch, she doesn’t quite jump when she feels his chest press against her back and his hands come up to cup her breasts.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Do you have any idea how hot you look, Princess, buck naked in the middle of the living room, stretching like that? You know what you do to me?”

Clarke leans her head back against him, tilting it to the side to give him better access to her throat. “Hmm, not really… you might need to show me.”

And dear God, he does.

In the end, it’s well past midnight when they finally succumb to sleep.

-100-

On the afternoon the day before New Year’s Eve, it actually snows, not quite for the first time this year but close enough. Clarke’s on her way home from a Transfer that she’s told Bellamy is a second story time at the library and is just rounding the corner to her street when the first flake lands in her hair. She pauses for a moment, turning her head to the skies, and when a few more flakes get stuck in her eyelashes, a huge smile spreads on her face.

“It’s snowing!” she exclaims as soon as she opens the door to the apartment. It’s Sunday, so Bellamy’s only worked a half-day and has probably been home for a couple of hours by now.

“Hello to you too,” she hears from the living room, and when she rounds the kitchen, she finds him on the couch, Bastet stretched out on her back next to him. Some game show is playing on the TV, the sound turned down, and there’s a box from her favorite bakery on the breakfast bar.

The domesticity of the scene in front of her makes a lump form in her throat, and she swallows it down hard before putting the smile back on.

“Did you hear what I said? It’s snowing!”

He chuckles. “I did hear you. What’s so amazing about that? This is New York, it has been known to happen.”

Clarke huffs impatiently. “It’s the first snow of the year, it’s magical.”

“It’s not, it snowed, like, two weeks ago. And we practically had a snowstorm back in November, I remember because I actually didn’t have to go into work.”

“OK, fine, not the first snow of the year, but the first snow when we can actually go outside and enjoy it.”

He watches her for a moment. “Yeah, I’m going to pass. But have fun.”

She narrows her eyes at him as he turns back to the TV. Well, if he won’t believe in the magic of snow, she’ll just have to show him.

She goes into the kitchen and grabs everything she needs for Raven’s hot cocoa. She pours milk into the pot and sets it on the stove, the other ingredients waiting on the counter next to her.

Apparently, her unusual presence in the kitchen grabs Bellamy’s attention, and before the milk has even started boiling, he’s come to investigate, leaning against the other side of the breakfast bar.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, a slight note of suspicion in his voice.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Relax, I’m just making hot chocolate. I won’t burn the kitchen down.”

He still climbs onto one of the bar stools. “If you say so.”

“What’s in that?” she asks, nodding at the bakery box on the counter.

He opens the box and shows her – six delicious looking cupcakes.

“You went all the way to Buttercup just to get those?”

He shrugs. “My last delivery was in that area, so I stopped by.”

She leans across the counter to give him a kiss. “Thank you. They’re perfect.”

“Perfect? For what?”

The milk starts boiling at that moment, so she ignores his question to finish the hot cocoa, pouring it into two large mugs.

“Grab a blanket and those and come with me,” she says before heading back into the hallway.

“Why are we having hot chocolate and cupcakes on the roof?” Bellamy asks as she opens the door to the stairway leading up to the little patch of roof by the maintenance for the elevator.

“I told you – it’s snowing.”

She hears him sigh behind her but he does follow her up.

It’s still snowing, she’s relieved to find, and has actually picked up a little, the flakes larger and coming down faster. She puts the mugs down on the brick half-wall that acts as a railing to unfold the chairs and then sits down on one of them, patting the other for Bellamy to do the same. He sinks down on the chair and puts the bakery box next to the mugs.

“Yup, it’s snowing alright,” he notes, warily watching a snowflake land on his arm.

“It’s not dangerous!” Clarke exclaims, grabbing the blanket from him and wrapping it around both of them.

She takes the mugs and hands them to him before grabbing the box and stretching her legs out to rest against the wall – it’s just the perfect height. She opens the box and puts it in her lap before taking one of the mugs back, bringing it to her lips to take a big sip.

“Mmm, wonderful.”

Bellamy raises his mug too and takes a tentative sip.

“It’s really good.”

“Raven’s recipe,” she admits, grabbing one of the cupcakes. “See, this is nice?”

He rolls his eyes but takes the cupcake she offers him. “It is.”

He doesn’t sound overly enthused, but she can work on that.

They sit in silence for a while, eating their cupcakes and drinking their chocolate. When both the box and the mugs are empty, Clarke puts them down on the edge again before pulling Bellamy to his feet and wrapping her arms around him. She leans her head against his chest and looks out over Brooklyn, soft snowflakes slowly making their ways through the cold air.

“I always thought the city changed when it snowed,” she says quietly after a moment. “It’s softer, you know, less harsh.”

“I guess I can see that,” he agrees, wrapping the discarded blanket around her like a cape.

“So…” she starts, looking up at him. “Can you see the magic of snow yet?”

There are snowflakes in his hair, a few clinging to his eyelashes, and his eyes are intense as they meet hers.

“I think I’m starting to,” he says before leaning down and capturing her mouth in a kiss.

His lips are cold and taste like snow and chocolate and vanilla frosting, and it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

-100-

Of course, the snow doesn’t stay, and New Year’s Eve is grey and dreary, clouds hanging low and threatening some sort of precipitation, though Clarke suspects it’ll be rain. This turns out to be right – the first few drops fall a little after noon, and by early evening, it’s pouring down outside.

It only took a little bit of hinting that Miller might not have time to get everything done by the evening for Bellamy to suggest that maybe he should head over early to help out. He left just after they’d grabbed some lunch, just in time for Clarke to make it to her first Transfer.

Now, she’s getting home from the second one and has about half an hour to get ready before Raven, Zeke and the Uber taking them to Forest Hills will be there. The six of them are having dinner before the rest of the guests arrive.

She’s had some foresight, so the dress Raven forced her to buy the other day is laid out on the bed along with underwear and a pair of pantyhose, and her favorite heels are on the floor, completing the outfit.

She takes the fastest shower she can, not bothering with her hair – it’ll need to be washed tomorrow anyway, with all the products she’ll have to put in it to get it to behave the way she wants – and gets dressed before putting on her make-up and fixing her hair.

She finishes with about a minute to spare before her phone dings with a message from Raven, saying that they’re downstairs.

She makes sure all the blinds are closed in her bedroom and leaves the door to the walk-in closet open – most of the time, Bastet doesn’t even care about fireworks, but sometimes she’s terrified and her favorite hiding spot is in the deepest corner of the closet.

There’s not too much traffic – it’s only a little after six, most partygoers won’t be leaving their homes for a while. The door to the building is propped open using a wooden wedge, maybe by Bellamy or Miller, maybe by someone else having a party who doesn’t want to be buzzing people in all night.

Jackson opens the door when they ring the doorbell.

“Hey, guys, welcome.”

“Hi Jackson,” Clarke greets him and then frowns. “I was going to introduce you guys, but I assume you actually know each other better than we do, so I’ll just skip that.”

Jackson laughs. “We probably do, yeah. Good to see all of you, thanks for coming.”

All four of them exchange hugs and handshakes before Jackson leads the way to the kitchen, where Bellamy and Miller are arguing about… garlic?

“That’s enough!” Miller says as they enter the kitchen. “It says eight cloves of garlic, I put in eight.”

“They always go easy on garlic in recipes,” Bellamy replies, popping another clove in the garlic press. “We can use at least two more.”

“Just in time to defuse the Great Garlic Grapple of 2018,” Jackson stage whispers, drawing both cooks’ attention to the new arrivals. “They’ve been going at it for ten minutes.”

“Just because you refuse to act as a referee,” Miller shoots back, wiping his hands on the ‘Kiss the cook’ apron he has on and rounding the breakfast bar.

“I’m biased,” Jackson says with a shrug. “But look, two completely neutral people right here.”

“Perfect.” Miller gives Raven a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, thanks for coming. How do you feel about garlic?”

Raven pulls away with a laugh. “Thanks for inviting us. And I’m afraid I have to side with Bellamy on this one – the spicier, the better.”

Miller’s eyes narrow slightly. “Right then. Zeke,” he says, turning his attention to the man in question. “Same question for you. Keep in mind that I handled clean-up duty after the holiday party at the center. Someone had spiked the punch, there was vomit all over the bathrooms. I saved you from that.”

Zeke shakes his head as he gives Miller one of those guy hugs. “And I really appreciated that, man, but I’m afraid I am of the same opinion as the lady.”

Miller sighs. “And I don’t even have to ask you what _you_ think,” he says to Clarke, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek as well.

“Sorry, Miller, looks like you’re outnumbered. How was the cruise?”

That pulls a laugh from him. “Apart from the fact that Jackson and I lowered the average age by about twenty-five years, it was great. All you can eat buffet every night, lounging by the pool all day… heaven.”

“I’m glad you had a good time then, despite the age difference.”

She squeezes Miller’s hand before going to join Bellamy by the stove.

“Hi,” he greets her with a smile.

“Hey,” she replies, realizing that she barely needs to reach up to be able to kiss him in these shoes.

He returns the kiss, hand sliding around to land on her lower back, warm against the bare skin there. “Mmm, I like this dress…”

The dress is much more daring than anything Clarke would ever pick on her own. It’s long sleeved with a high boat neck in the front – which luckily means she can wear a stick on bra – but her back is almost completely bare. There’s just a narrow strap across the top of her shoulders and neck, and then the bottom of the dress starts about half an inch above her panties, before ending about two inches below her butt. It’s very tight, which is probably lucky since it means it should – theoretically – stay in place and not ride up, and entirely covered in royal blue sequins.

“Raven made me buy it,” she admits.

“Remind me to thank Raven.”

Someone clearing their throat reminds them that they do in fact have an audience, and Bellamy takes a quick step back.

“Go sit down, food’s almost done.”

Even Miller has to admit that the extra two cloves of garlic made the shrimp da friavolo just perfect.

When they’ve finished the dessert – raspberry panna cotta with grated chocolate – they all help to set out snacks and drinks in the living room, just in time for the first guests to arrive.

Clarke’s not normally a big fan of New Year’s Eve parties – it’s just an arbitrary day, after all, that someone at some point decided was the last day of the year and deserved to be celebrated. Personally, she prefers the Chinese tradition of instead celebrating the first day of the new year.

But tonight, she really does have a great time. Bellamy barely leaves her side, an arm around her waist or shoulders at all times, and introduces her to everyone he knows with a ‘this is Clarke, my girlfriend’, which makes her feel all warm inside even though it’s been over two weeks since they had the whole relationship talk.

An hour or so after the other guests start arriving, they’re sort of half hidden in a corner of the living room. Miller and Jackson just left to get more drinks, and the room is starting to fill up quite a bit. Bellamy’s in the middle of telling her about last New Year’s, when Miller ended up falling asleep in the bath tub, when he suddenly trails off and takes a step to the left, so she’s between him and the rest of the room.

“What is it?” Clarke asks, glancing over her shoulder.

“Nothing, just… Echo.”

That doesn’t actually explain anything. “What?”

“She moved in across the hall in the spring,” Bellamy explains. “She came over at least once a week asking for some favor – ‘could you help me move this’ or ‘oh, I can’t reach to change this light bulb, could you help me’, stuff like that. I mean, I knew she was flirting or whatever, I just… wasn’t really interested. Then Miller invited her to his 4th of July party and, well, I was pretty drunk and we ended up hooking up. I tried to sort of let her down gently or whatever but she can’t seem to take a hint.”

“Hmm…” Clarke glances around the room again, trying to spot the woman in question with barely anything to go on.

“It was just the once, I promise,” he hurries to add. “I even told her I was seeing someone, back in August or something, which I obviously wasn’t, but she wouldn’t back off and I didn’t know what else to do… either she didn’t believe me or she just didn’t care.”

“Relax,” she tells him with a laugh. “It was months before we even met.”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah, but…”

“Oh, I think I’ve got her.” She’s spotted a tall, skinny brunette looking around with purpose, obviously in search of something… or someone. “Your eleven o’clock, red dress?”

Bellamy nods. “Yup.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t need any help changing light bulbs… You want me to help you get through to her?”

“Would you?” The relief in his eyes is obvious. “I mean, I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks, since I’ve barely been home, but Miller told me she stopped by the other day.”

Clarke’s already making a little plan in her mind. “Of course. Did you tell her anything about the person you were supposed to be dating back in August?”

He thinks for a moment. “No, just that I was seeing someone.”

“No names, timeframes, nothing like that?” He shakes his head. “OK. Be right back.”

She turns away from him and starts weaving through the crowd to the other side of the room. She sees the moment Echo spots Bellamy in the corner, her eyes lighting up with an almost predatory glint, but Clarke fights the urge to turn right back around. Instead, she gives it a few minutes.

Honestly, she can’t believe that the other woman can’t tell how uncomfortable Bellamy is when she’s leaning in too close, touching his arm, laughing at something he said that obviously wasn’t funny…

When she thinks she’s given them enough time alone, Clarke makes her way back across the room.

“Hey, babe, sorry, there was a line to the bathroom,” she says, easily sliding in between Echo and the wall to wrap an arm around Bellamy’s waist.

He lets out a relieved breath, arm sneaking around her to pull her closer. “No worries.”

She turns to focus on Echo, smiling brightly at her. “Hi! I’m Clarke, Bellamy’s girlfriend, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Echo hesitantly takes her hand, the flirty smile slipping off her face.

“Echo, nice to meet you.”

Clarke lets the bright smile fall a little, hoping Echo will think that she’s heard of her. Which is technically true, even if it was only a few minutes ago. “Nice to meet you.”

Echo’s eyes turn calculating. “So how long have you two been dating?”

She’s clearly not ready to give up… Clarke can work with that. She turns to look up at Bellamy, putting on a dreamy smile that she sincerely hopes will never again appear on her face. “How long has it been, babe, five months?”

He nods. “Something like that.”

She turns back to Echo. “We met the weekend after 4th of July but it took a week or so before he got around to actually asking me out. You know how guys can be, they want to be absolutely sure you’re interested before they make a move.”

The other woman’s eyes turn cold. “Sure do. Well, I should probably…” She nods at the room in general. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too!” Clarke replies with another bright smile as she turns around and starts heading in the direction of the hallway.

When she disappears from view, Bellamy lets out a relieved breath. “You are amazing,” he announces.

She just shrugs. “Sometimes it takes a woman to get through to another woman, you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, please.” She leans in for a quick kiss. “It was just as much for my benefit. Not like I want some woman who can’t take no for an answer sniffing around my guy.”

He chuckles a little. “Yours, huh?”

“Damn right. Now let’s enjoy the rest of the party.”

And they do. Clarke doesn’t want to drink too much, since she really doesn’t want to be hung-over during their talk in the morning, so she just sips her drinks. But she’s never been one to need alcohol to have fun, and over the next few hours, she has a blast talking, laughing and dancing with her friends. When midnight approaches and someone turns the TV to the broadcast from Times Square, she’s still pleasantly buzzed though.

She’s leaning against the wall by the window by the fire escape, which is open for people who want to smoke or just cool down a little. It’s empty at the moment, though, everyone having come back inside to not miss the countdown, which should be starting any moment now. Bellamy went off to get them champagne to toast a few minutes ago, and she looks around for a moment, spotting him crossing the room towards her.

“Here you are.” She accepts the glass he holds out to her, and he glances over his shoulder at the crowd in the living room. “Want to get some air?”

He nods at the open window, and she hums in agreement. She has to sit down on the sill to avoid showing everyone her underwear, and then carefully set her feet down on the fire escape, to avoid her heels going through, but she manages.

“Are you having a good time?” he asks when they’re both leaning against the railing. It’s cold, but Clarke’s overheated from the crowded living room and it just feels nice.

“I am,” she assures him.

“Good.” Bellamy takes a zip of champagne. “Raven said she and Zeke have an Uber booked for half past midnight, I was thinking maybe we could piggy back with them and head home? You said Bas is sometimes scared of the fireworks, right? Check to make sure she’s OK.”

The combination of calling her apartment ‘home’ and worrying about her cat hits her right in the feels, and for a moment, she can just nod.

“Are you sure?” she then asks.

“Yeah.” He frowns at her. “You OK?”

Of course he picks up on her emotional moment. “Fine. Just nostalgic, I guess? Another year gone, you know.”

He nods. “Well, yeah. But a new one’s beginning, too. And I have a feeling this year is going to be the best year ever.”

Despite the way her stomach falls at his prediction, Clarke forces a smile onto her face. “Absolutely.”

“Ten!” comes from inside the apartment at that moment and they both look through the window at the people gathered around the TV.

“Want to go back inside?” Bellamy asks, but she shakes her head.

“Let’s stay out here. We can still hear the countdown.”

He takes a step closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and she leans against him.

“Seven!”

“You know, I’ve heard that what you do on New Year’s Eve is what you’ll do for the year to come,” he says.

“Oh yeah?”

“Three!”

“I would love to spend all of 2019 with you.”

She feels a lump in her throat at that but tries to brush it off.

“I would spend every single day with you,” she says honestly.

“Happy New Year!” Excited voices burst through the window, and Bellamy smiles down at her.

“Happy New Year, Princess.”

“Happy New Year,” she just gets out before his lips are on hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a little bit of explicit sexual content in there, but not too much


	19. Every Whisper of Every Waking Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the big reveal! Will Clarke go through with it, or will she change her mind at the last minute? How will Bellamy react? Will he even believe her? Read on to find out…
> 
> Chapter title from “Losing My Religion” by R.E.M.
> 
> I don't own anything relating to The 100
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warning

Clarke is happy to find that she has no signs of a hangover when she wakes up on New Year’s Day. She did try to limit her alcohol intake, and they did call it a night pretty early, but still.

She’s never seen Bellamy drink more than a few bottles of beer or some wine with dinner or on the couch in the evenings before, so she’s not completely sure exactly how drunk he was last night. He’d been able to carry a conversation on the way home in the Uber without a problem, and hadn’t had any trouble getting her out of her dress once they got home – the stick on bra had put a slightly confused frown on his face for second or two, though – before he proceeded to give her a very nice start to the new year.

He’s still sound asleep next to her, but Clarke is too antsy to stay in bed, so she gets up as quietly as she can. She grabs a couple of aspirin from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and puts them next to the glass of water on the nightstand on Bellamy’s side of the bed, in case he needs them, before she leaves the room and goes straight to the kitchen, where she puts on some coffee.

Hangover or not, she’s going to need caffeine for the conversation that’s coming.

Her stomach is grumbling angrily, so she pops a couple of slices of bread in the toaster while she waits for the coffee to be done. She’s not sure she’ll be able to eat for a while, depending on Bellamy’s reaction, so better safe than sorry.

She’s finished two large mugs of coffee and four slices of toast with Nutella (she needs the sugar rush, OK?) when the bedroom door opens and Bellamy appears in the room, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Hey,” he greets her, slumping down next to her on the couch and closing his eyes as he leans his head back. “You’re up early?”

Clarke glances at the clock and realizes that it’s only a little before eleven. She’s been up for almost an hour, and the last time she checked the time last night, it was almost three. So yeah, she was up early.

“Woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” she says with a shrug. “How’re you feeling today?”

Bellamy gives her a one-eyed look. “I wasn’t _that_ drunk. Didn’t even need the aspirin, but thank you.”

“I wasn’t sure. First time we’re partying together, you know.”

“No, it’s not.”

For a moment, Clarke has no idea what he’s talking about, but then she remembers. Halloween.

“Right, but as far as I can remember, you had a total of two whiskeys that night,” she says.

He smirks at her. “True. You, on the other hand… I think I dare say you were at least tipsy.”

She had been borderline drunk when he showed up at the party, but she’d sobered up during their little star gazing session.

“I definitely was.”

“But not last night? You seemed almost sober by the time we got home.”

There it is again. Home.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really in the mood to get wasted,” she says with a shrug.

Bellamy watches her intently for a long moment. “How come?”

Right. She could take that as an opportunity to get ‘the conversation’ started, but… he really should have breakfast first.

“You hungry?” she asks instead, jumping to her feet. “I’ve just had some toast, but I can make you something else if you want?”

She feels his eyes on her as she goes into the kitchen.

“Just toast and coffee is fine.”

She loads the coffee maker again and pops some more bread into the toaster.

“Nutella or strawberry?”

“Strawberry, please.”

Clarke half expects him to come into the kitchen as she lingers, waiting for the coffee and toast to be ready, cornering her and asking what’s wrong, but he doesn’t.

She spreads strawberry jam on four slices of toast and pours coffee into his Christmas present from Raven before going back into the living room.

Bellamy’s in the spot where she left him, Bas next to him on the couch.

“You know,” she says as she sits back down. “I’m starting to think she likes you better than me.”

He laughs before grabbing the coffee and a slice of toast. “I’m just more patient with petting her than you are.”

“I guess.”

She tries to busy herself with her phone while he eats, checking her social media and the news. Nothing good, as usual.

Bellamy’s finished three slices and all the coffee when he pushes the last piece of toast away and turns to face her on the couch. “OK, what’s going on? You’ve been on edge ever since I got up.”

She takes a deep breath before meeting his eyes.

“I need to talk to you.”

Clarke has never fully understood the expression that somebody’s face falls – it can’t really, it stays where it is – but suddenly, she does, because that’s what happens. At her words, Bellamy’s entire expression changes, almost like he slumps in on himself.

“Oh.”

She frowns. “What do you mean ‘oh’?”

“Just… as far as I know, there are only two sentences that can follow your girlfriend saying that you need to talk.”

Huh.

“And those would be…”

“Either ‘I’m breaking up with you’ or ‘I’m pregnant’. And you might not have been drunk last night, but you did drink, so…”

She can’t help but laugh, which makes his expression lighten just a little.

“And you’ve had a lot of experience with the second one?”

Something flashes in Bellamy’s eyes and he looks away from her. “Just the once.”

This time, Clarke is sure that _her_ face must fall. Is he saying…

“Oh. I didn’t know you had…”

“No, no,” he cuts her off quickly, looking up at her again. “No, it… we were nineteen. It was about a year after my mom died and I had just about managed to figure out how to juggle Octavia and my job and, well, life in general. My girlfriend at the time was just starting her sophomore year at NYU. We talked about it a lot and in the end we agreed that it just wasn’t the right time. It was the right decision for both of us, and I wouldn’t say that I’ve ever regretted it, but… you do think about it sometimes, you know?”

She doesn’t, actually. She has no idea.

Not being able to have kids is an aspect of being a Soul Keeper that Clarke has never much thought about. She’s not sure if it’s just a natural consequence of the not aging thing, or if it’s a conscious… design feature, so to speak. Either way, it’s just how things are. She’s never wanted kids – sure, they can be cute, but they’re also a lot of work. She’s never missed it, never longed for it.

Until now.

The knowledge that someone out there, she doesn’t even know her name, got to have that part of Bellamy, even if just for a little while, makes a kind of envy she’s never felt before rise inside her.

Why shouldn’t she get that? She knows that she’s going to lose him much too soon, but if she could have this, a small part of him, then maybe it would all be worth it.

Maybe she could. She can’t get pregnant herself, but there are other ways…

Before her mind can run away with her, she pushes the thought down firmly. There’s a reason Soul Keepers can’t have kids. What kind of life could she give a child? Moving is one thing, but having to uproot your whole life, become an entirely new person, every six years or so? You can’t expect a kid to understand that. And she’s already dreading losing Bellamy when the time comes, she can’t even imagine what it would be like to lose a child, no matter how long it got to live.

No. It’s not in the cards for her, and she’s fine with that. Really, she is.

“I’m sorry,” she offers, and he shrugs.

“No need to be. It was a long time ago and, like I said, it was the right decision.”

“Right… well, I am not pregnant, and I’m not breaking up with you,” she says. He might want to break up with her once she’s told him everything, though… “Just so we’re clear on all of that.”

“OK, so what is it?”

She’s tried to come up with a good way to say it, but she hasn’t been able to.

“I’ve never done this before so I don’t really know how to start… It’s going to sound really strange, OK?” she say, and Bellamy frowns at her.

“OK…”

“You’ll probably have trouble believing me but just… try to have an open mind, please?”

He gives her a long, worried look. “You are seriously starting to freak me out here. Just tell me, whatever it is, I promise I’ll believe you.”

He says that now…

“OK, OK.” Clarke takes a deep breath, looking away from him and down at her hands resting in her lap. She interlaces the fingers on one hand with those on the others, to avoid picking nervously at her cuticles or a loose thread on her leggings. “Right, so, when someone dies, that person’s… soul, essence, spirit, whatever you want to call it, it leaves the body.”

She looks up at him briefly, noticing the furrowed brows indicating that he’s confused as to what she’s getting at. No wonder…

“OK.”

“To be able to move on to whatever it is that’s after this life, the soul – I’ll just call it that, OK? – has to pass through a sort of passageway.”

“Right.”

Clarke winces a little at his dubious tone but pushes on. She knew that he wouldn’t just instantly believe her, no matter what he said a moment ago.

“There are people whose job it is to do that, to help souls pass from this world to the next. They act as a doorway, sort of, guiding the souls on their path.”

“You mean like that TV show, what was it called… _Dead Like Me_? Grim reapers?”

“Well, not exactly like that, but sort of.” Clarke had wondered, briefly, if a Soul Keeper had been behind that show, but in the end, the differences were just too many. Which, of course, could have been intentional. But this isn’t the moment to think about that. “The souls don’t walk around like ghosts or anything, you can’t see them, and they don’t need to find the light or whatever. They just leave the body in the moment after death, and pass through the Soul Keeper assigned to that particular case. A lot less dramatic, honestly.”

It’s quiet for a long beat after she stops talking, before Bellamy clears his throat.

“OK, so why are you telling me this?”

“Well, that’s what I do. I’m a Soul Keeper.”

“You’re a… Soul Keeper. Who goes around… transporting souls of people who die?”

“We call it Transferring,” she corrects him. “But yeah, pretty much.”

He looks at her for a long moment, as if expecting her to laugh and yell ‘got you!’ or something. Which, of course, she doesn’t.

“So what’s with that name?” he finally asks. “I mean, you don’t hold onto the souls, so shouldn’t it be Soul… Transferrer or something?”

She’s tried to prepare herself for any questions he might have, but this one hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“I don’t know, honestly,” she admits. “As far as I’m aware, that’s always been what we’re called in English. I know the Swedish name is more along the lines of… Soul Carer. Which is a term they also use for a priest or someone in the church who offers spiritual guidance, actually, but I’m not sure where it originated, which came first. There are some languages where it’s more like you said, Soul Mover or Transferrer or something similar, and others where the focus is more on the passage part, like Spanish, where it’s basically Passage of Souls.”

“So let me get this straight… you’re a Soul Keeper, you don’t work at the library?”

“No, I do. Well, I volunteer there, I don’t get paid or anything,” Clarke clarifies. “Being a Soul Keeper is my actual job.”

Bellamy lets out a laugh at that. “Right, I’m sure the pay is great.”

“It is, actually,” she tells him with a shrug. At his raised eyebrows, she continues. “We do have to actually live, you know. We might not age like the rest of you, but we need a place to sleep, food, the basic stuff everyone needs.”

“Wait, wait, wait – you don’t _age_?”

He’s looking at her like she just revealed that she’s really an alien, which, she supposes, is probably right up there with not aging.

“We don’t. I think it’s out of practicality, so new Keepers don’t need to be recruited as much.”

He sighs. “I am trying really hard to give you the benefit of the doubt right now, but you’re not making it easy.”

“I know, sorry.”

“Let’s just say I do believe you. How long have you been a Soul Keeper?”

“Since 1868.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen almost comically. “Seriously?” She just nods. “So that means you were around during the Civil War.”

She raises an eyebrow at his statement. “Please, we both know the Civil War ended in 1865.”

A ghost of a smile flashes across his face. “Good save.”

“But I was there at the opening of Yellowstone,” Clarke says. “I saw the Statue of Liberty go up. I was technically around for both World Wars, but I was here in the US during that time, so I can’t say it affected me that much. I was at Woodstock, I’ve seen The Beatles and Elvis in concert. I watched the moon landing in real time. I was at the fall of the Berlin wall.”

“That’s… that’s a lot to take in.”

“I have pictures,” she offers. “I mean, I know it’s really easy to fake those these days, but I can still show you. If you think it would help.”

Bellamy just nods, so she gets up and goes to get a photo album from one of the bookcases. She has a ton of pictures, of course, but a lot of them are just her with Raven or one of her other friends with nothing that really indicates the time it was taken, apart from the clothes, so she went through them the other day, trying to find photos to show him that would actually be useful and put together them in one album.

She sits down a little closer to him when she gets back to the couch, to be able to show him the photos better, and she’s relieved that he at least doesn’t move away from her. That’s something.

“OK, so a lot of these aren’t exactly obvious, time wise,” Clarke says as she opens the album to the first page, a photo of her and Raven in front of Raven’s house in San Diego in 1912.

“That’s Raven,” Bellamy notes with a frown.

“Oh, yeah, she’s a Soul Keeper too.”

“And Zeke?”

“Him too,” she confirms. “And Wells and Sasha and Jasper and Monty and Harper and Maya.”

“Do you have any friends who aren’t Soul Keepers?” he asks incredulously.

“Well, the whole not aging thing makes it hard to form lasting relationships with Norms…”

“Norms?” he cuts in.

“Normal people who aren’t Soul Keepers. They tend to start questioning why you look the same ten years down the line… so yeah, I do only have Soul Keeper friends. And you… I hope.”

If she was looking for reassurance on that part, she’s disappointed. Bellamy just nods and looks at the photograph again.

“When is this from?”

Clarke tries not to let the lack of response affect her, but her stomach, which has been churning ever since she started talking, drops a little, and she has to swallow before she can answer.

“1912, San Diego. Raven’s always been all about technology, she got a camera as soon as they were commercially available. I mean, the year isn’t clear in the photo or anything, but…”

“It’s obvious that it’s old,” he notes, hesitantly touching a worn edge of the picture.

“Yeah.” She turns the page, revealing one photograph of her and Lexa from Grand Canyon and one of her and Raven with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. She remembers the photo of the Grand Canyon being taken by the El Tovar Hotel at the ten year anniversary of its opening, so it must be from 1915. The cars in the background of the second photo, and the fact that the bridge wasn’t opened until 1937, make it obvious that it’s from the late thirties.

“Who’s that?” Bellamy asks, pointing at the photo of the Grand Canyon and pulling her back to the present.

“That’s Lexa.”

He takes his eyes off the album to level her with a questioning look. “You mean the ex-girlfriend who took off for Australia a while ago?”

“Yeah. Not so much a while ago, more like… eighty years?”

She’s not sure why it comes out as a question. He’s quiet for a long moment, eyes back on the photos.

“So what you’re saying is that everything you’ve told me is basically a lie?” he eventually says, voice flat, completely devoid of any kind of emotion that could let her know what he’s thinking.

“No!” Clarke exclaims, a little louder than she had intended. “I mean… technically, a lot of the specifics – years and stuff – I had to fudge a little. I mean, what would you have said if I told you Lexa and I broke up in 1936?”

Bellamy ignores her question but does look up at her, eyes hard. She almost wishes that he would look away again. “What else have you been lying about?”

She closes her eyes for a moment and presses the heels of her hands against her lids. She knew there was a big chance he’d react like this, if he even believed her – that he’d be angry she’s been lying to him. She thought she had prepared herself for it, but apparently not.

“I don’t know… sometimes I’ve said I have a double shift at the library or that I’m meeting Raven when I have a Transfer. It’s not like I could tell you what I was really doing, could I?” He nods once at that, whether in agreement or just acknowledgment she doesn’t know. “Wells… we weren’t a couple back in high school, we started dating when we were both in London in 1955 and broke up in 1971. I didn’t inherit this place from my parents when they died, because they didn’t, I’ve never actually had parents. And, obviously, my nonexistent grandfather didn’t buy it, I did, back in the forties. I… I don’t know, there are other things, but please, I never _wanted_ to lie to you, I _had_ to. If I told you the truth from the start, you would have run the other way.”

He doesn’t look appeased. “I guess you may be right about that,” he does admit though.

“And nothing I have told you about how I feel about you has ever been a lie, OK? Please, tell me you believe that.”

He looks away from her. “I honestly don’t know right now.”

Clarke has to bite the side of her cheek to not say anything else, and her fingers itch to reach out to him, but she doesn’t, instead fists her hands so hard she’s sure her nails are going to draw blood. Not that it matters. It’ll heal in a moment.

“Is this from the opening of the bridge?” Bellamy asks, pointing at the photo.

“No,” she replies after a moment, voice shaking a little. She swallows before she continues and actually manages to sound pretty much normal. “I was in New Orleans at that time, so I couldn’t make it out to the opening. I think this one’s from that summer, so a couple of months after. Lexa left for Australia in November the year before and Raven decided we needed a girl’s trip to take my mind off it or something.”

He nods and turns the page, which reveals several photos from Las Vegas in the late forties or early fifties. Most of them are of buildings that have long since been torn down, but in one, she and Raven are standing in front of The Golden Nugget, arms around each other. The sign isn’t quite as glittery as in real life, since the photo is in black and white, but it’s still clearly identifiable.

“Las Vegas?” he asks, and she nods.

“Yeah. Nothing like it is today, of course, but it was quite an experience back then.”

They continue flipping through the album, Clarke explaining each photo – most of them aren’t obvious, though some, like the ones from Woodstock, are.

The last page is from the last time she was stationed in New York and Bellamy stares at one of them for a long time – Clarke, Raven and Zeke at the foot of the Statue of Liberty, the Twin Towers clearly visible in the background.

“This was before…” he starts, but doesn’t finish the sentence.

She nods.

“Did you… were you here when it…”

“No. The last time I left New York was in 1999, and I was in LA when it happened, so not close enough to get called in,” she tells him.

“So you weren’t… assigned to that?”

“No. Monty and Harper were, though… they’ve never talked about it.”

“I can’t even imagine…”

It’s the last page of the album, so she closes it and puts it to the side.

“Disasters with a lot of victims are always hard,” she says with a sigh. “I mean, all Transfers are more or less emotionally draining, but that’s worse. We don’t get them too often, luckily.”

“You’ve done others?” Bellamy asks, looking up at her. His eyes have softened a little, which she chooses to take as a possibly good sign.

“I have,” she confirms. “I was in San Francisco during the earthquake in 1906. Hartford in 1944, a large fire during a show of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. And Chicago in 1979, the American Airlines Flight 191 crash.”

“But usually it’s just one at a time?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah, the majority are single Transfers, some doubles, occasionally smaller groups. Anything over three at a time you have a partner for.”

“How does it work?” he asks, and she thinks that his tone of voice has changed a little, not as harsh or disappointed anymore, more… curious. “I mean, you obviously don’t just go wandering around the streets of New York, waiting for someone to drop dead. You said you were assigned cases, who does the assigning?”

“I don’t know, someone higher up, I suppose.”

Bellamy gives her an incredulous look. “You’ve never wondered about that?”

She has, of course. In the beginning. But it’s just the way it is, she’s gotten used to it over the years.

“I used to, but there’s no point. It’s just the way it is.”

Clarke can tell from the look on his face that he doesn’t buy it.

“And what happens to the souls after you transfer them?”

“They move on to whatever’s next, I suppose,” she says, earning another incredulous look.

“You don’t actually know what that is?”

She shakes her head. “No. I mean, there’s obviously _something_ , but as to whether it’s heaven, hell, reincarnation… I have no idea.”

He huffs at that.

“Considering how long you’ve been doing this, there sure are a lot of things you don’t know,” he notes.

“I guess so,” she agrees, because it’s true. “When I became a Soul Keeper, I already knew what I was supposed to do, I knew how everything worked. But nobody knows what’s behind it all or what happens to the souls we help. Sure, I was curious in the beginning, but after a while you just… accept it, I guess. You just can’t go around questioning and second guessing everything you do, year after year after year.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Bellamy grudgingly agrees. “So how do you become a Soul Keeper? What’s the recruitment process like? Do they have, like, posters like the army – ‘I want YOU for the… Soul Keeper Brigade’ or something?”

Clarke can’t help but chuckle at that. “Of course not. It’s… OK, I don’t want to say that I don’t know again, but I honestly don’t. I woke up on June 6th in 1868. Like waking up in the morning, nothing strange about it. I knew my name, I knew how old I was, I knew I was a Soul Keeper. All the information I needed – what that meant, how it was done, what was expected of me – was already in my head.”

“So you just… came into existence like this?”

“Well, not exactly. My hair was longer, I think I was a little skinnier… but other than that, yeah. Just like this.”

“So you guys aren’t frozen in time, like vampires? You can still change?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You did see the photos, right? Yeah, my hair grows – I have to shave my legs and armpits – my nails grow, I gain and lose weight… I put on, like, fifteen pounds when the first Dunkin’ Donuts opened in New York.”

“So the only thing that’s different about you is that you don’t age,” Bellamy summarizes.

“Well, not exactly. We don’t get sick, for one. I mean, we’re affected by our surroundings to a certain extent, so we don’t get out of everything, but we don’t catch colds or other communicable diseases. We don’t get hurt as badly as Norms and we heal much faster. And we’re not… fertile.”

“You mean you can’t have kids?” he asks with raised eyebrows.

“Nope. Though on the plus side – no periods.” Clarke tries to laugh but it sounds more like a huff than anything. “I mean, forget once a month for thirty-five years, I’m pretty happy I don’t have to deal with that every month for all eternity, you know.”

“Yeah…” he agrees thoughtfully. “So if you don’t get sick and don’t get hurt the way we do and heal really fast, you’re basically immortal?”

“Basically,” she replies with a nod. “Not completely.”

“Explain, please.”

“Well, we can die, it just has to be… by our own hand.”

She watches his face closely as he takes in that piece of information.

“So to die, you have to kill yourselves?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“And there are Soul Keepers who do that?”

“There are, yeah.” Clarke shrugs. “I haven’t known any personally, but the oldest Soul Keepers that are around at the moment are only about 700 years old. I know that sounds ancient, but considering how long the world and humanity has been around, it’s really not. Raven says she knew someone who was over a thousand years old, but he… he was gone before I became a Keeper.”

Bellamy frowns a little as he lets that sink in. “I suppose that sort of makes sense,” he says after a moment. “It must be hard in the long run. I can imagine it’s difficult to adapt to the times after a while, you start feeling like you don’t belong. Out of place.”

That’s what Clarke’s thought, too, when she’s considered it. It hasn’t happened to her yet, but who knows what the future might hold?

“But what about before?” he then asks, making her frown.

“Before what?”

“Before you became a Soul Keeper? I mean, did you have a life before and just don’t remember? Did you die, but instead of moving on to whatever’s after, you were recruited or picked for this or something?”

“Like I said, nobody really knows,” she says with a shrug. “I think most of us believe that Soul Keepers start out as normal people who, when they die, are either chosen to become Keepers or get to make that decision themselves. It only makes sense, considering we’re all different – different ages, appearances, genders, ethnic backgrounds… But it could be something else entirely, there are other theories. The craziest one I’ve heard is probably that we’re all sculpted out of wood and then brought to life somehow, kind of like Pinocchio.”

Like she hoped, Bellamy snorts a laugh at that.

“Yeah, that’s pretty out there,” he agrees, then sighs. “But then again, so is everything else you’ve just told me.”

“I know.” He doesn’t say anything else, just stares at the closed photo album on the table in front of them, so eventually she continues. “But you believe me?”

He looks up at her then, and she can see the conflict in his eyes.

“I don’t know, I… I think I need some time to think.”

Clarke quickly nods. “Of course. Do you want me to… I can take a walk or something, leave you alone for a while.”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he immediately replies, getting to his feet. “I’ll just…”

“You don’t have to leave!” she interrupts him, terrified that he’ll walk out the door and never come back, that she really has scared him off. “I won’t bother you, I promise. I’ll give you all the time you need, just don’t… please stay.”

“I’m not leaving,” he assures her, voice calm, giving her just a tiny bit of hope that maybe he will be able to forgive her. “I’ll just be in the bedroom, OK?”

She lets out a relieved breath. “OK.”

He offers her a smile that looks more like a grimace before leaving the room. Bastet, who’s been curled up next to Bellamy the whole time they’ve been talking, stretches and gives Clarke a look that can only be described as reproachful before jumping off the couch and strutting after him. Traitor.

She slumps back against the couch, squeezing her eyes closed against the hot tears that are building behind her eyelids.

_Just give him some time,_ she tries to tell herself. _It’s a lot to take in, he just needs a little time to wrap his mind around everything. It’s going to be fine._

Still, as the first few tears escape, she can’t help but think that she’s just ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of abortion, references to suicide
> 
> In case there are any Swedes reading this, the Swedish word I’m thinking of is “själasörjare”


	20. I Am Every Tear You Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the big reveal! Will Bellamy believe Clarke? And, of course, there’s still one big thing left to tell him…
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “What it feels like” by Swedish group Kent. The song is available in English but for any Swedes out there, the original is “Kräm (så nära får ingen gå)”. Both versions are cool!

Clarke stays completely still until the tears stop streaming down her cheeks. She opens her eyes, takes a shaky breath, and goes into the kitchen to splash some water on her face.

When she gets back to the couch, she turns on the TV in hopes of finding something to distract her, and picks up her phone from the coffee table.

**Not going great**

It’s only a few minutes after noon, and Raven was pretty drunk last night, but her reply still comes in almost immediately.

_he bail?_

**No, he’s in the bedroom, said  
he needed to think**

_r u surprised?_

Clarke pauses, thumb hovering over the screen. She’s not, really, but at the same time… yes, she expected him to have trouble believing her and, if and when he did, to be angry. But somewhere deep down, she had also expected them to be able to talk about it right away, work it out…

**Yes and no**

**I didn’t think he’d believe me  
right away, and I don’t know  
if he does**

**And I expected him to be angry  
that I’ve lied to him**

**But I guess I thought we’d just  
talk it through until he realized  
that I was telling the truth and  
that I never wanted to lie to him…**

_still there tho_

_rmb wick?_

_didn’t talk 2 me 4 a week_

Of course she remembers when Raven told Wick, she had been there. Well, not during the actual conversation, but in the week after, when Wick had gone MIA and Raven had been furious on the outside, to hide that she was really worried that he would leave her and incredibly sad, because Raven doesn’t show those kinds of emotions.

She also remembers when Wick came back, full of remorse and begging Raven to forgive him. How she had given him a long look, arms crossed over her chest, before caving and throwing herself in his arms.

God, she hopes she’ll get that. Her phone buzzes in her hand again.

_need me 2 come over?_

She has to smile at the question.

**No, I’m OK**

**I’ll let you know if things change**

Raven sends a heart emoji and Clarke sends one back before turning the ringer off and putting the phone away, trying to focus on the TV.

She finds a channel doing a marathon of _Jeopardy_ and forces herself to pay attention, saying the answers out loud when she knows them. She keeps the volume low, constantly listening for sounds from the bedroom, but there’s nothing.

After an hour or so, she needs to go to the bathroom, but instead of disturbing Bellamy, she uses the guest bathroom. It feels wrong, but she just can’t bring herself to face him before he willingly comes to her.

A while later, she puts on another pot of coffee and drinks two mugs in rapid succession. It does nothing to help with her nerves, only makes her more jittery, unable to sit still without tapping her foot against the floor or drumming her fingers against the arm of the couch.

She loads the dishwasher when she’s finished her coffee, but it’s not full so she doesn’t start it. Instead of going back to the couch, she crosses the room to one of the windows facing the river, leaning her forehead against the cool glass and gazing out at the grey day.

The first day of the new year. 207 days left for Bellamy.

Will she get to spend any of them with him? Right now, she’s not so sure…

She sighs and curls up on the couch again, pulling her legs up under her and wrapping a blanket tightly around herself. She glances at the clock – twenty minutes before two. She’ll need to leave in about an hour and a half to make it to the Transfer at Madison Square Park by four. She knows she should probably eat something before that too, but just the thought makes her stomach turn over.

With an enormous effort, she manages to push all other thoughts from her mind and focus only on Alex Trebek. The first question is easy.

“What is _Wild Wild West_?” she says out loud to the empty room.

_“Yes.”_

_“Quotable women for six, please.”_

_“On August 10, 1945 this former first lady wrote ‘the times now call for mankind as a whole to rise to great heights’.”_

“Who was Eleanor Roosevelt?”

Clarke turns her head so quickly at the sound of Bellamy’s voice that she’s surprised she doesn’t get a crick in her neck. She fumbles for the remote and turns the TV off when she finds it.

“Hey.”

He offers her a small smile, but it’s a real smile, and sits down next to her on the couch. Not right next to her, a few inches away, but at least he’s there.

“Hey.”

She doesn’t know how to ask the question, so she just watches him, fingers tightly wrapped around the blanket that she’s clutching to her chest. He’s quiet for a long moment too, eyes intent on hers, before he sighs.

“God, you look like a puppy that’s just been kicked.” He lifts one arm and rests it against the back of the couch. “Come here.”

Clarke scoots closer until she can bury her face against his neck, and his arms go around her like always, holding her tight. She feels new tears in her eyes and tries to blink them away, but they escape anyway.

Bellamy’s lips brush against her hair. “I’m sorry I overreacted, OK?”

She shakes her head against him before turning just slightly so he can hear her. “You didn’t overreact at all, you have every right to be mad. _I’m_ sorry I’ve been lying to you, I really didn’t want to but I didn’t know what else to do.”

He starts rubbing her back in a soothing motion and Clarke feels herself relax, if only just a little. There’s still more to this that he doesn’t know, but maybe, just maybe, they’ll be OK.

“I get it, OK?” he assures her. “You were right, I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me right after we met. I probably would have thought you were crazy.”

“And you don’t now?”

“No. I believe you.” He lets out a chuckle. “Honestly, I don’t see why you would go through the trouble of coming up with all of that, faking those photos, if this is just some sort of big hoax.”

“It’s not, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I know.” His hand slides into her hair, nails scraping lightly against her scalp in the way she loves, and she lets out a deep sigh. “I love you, Princess.”

For some reason, the declaration makes her tear up all over again, and she shifts slightly, so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “I love you, so much, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no. Stop apologizing.”

She nods mutely and tightens her grip on him, feeling his arm wrap more securely around her waist too.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she does remember that she has a Transfer to get to, so after a few minutes of letting her senses calm in the circle of Bellamy’s arms, she reluctantly pulls away.

“I actually… I have a Transfer a little later today,” she tells him hesitantly.

“Oh. Do you need to leave now?”

“Not for an hour or so.”

He nods. “You know, we got sidetracked earlier and you never told me how you get your assignments.”

She realizes that he’s right.

“I have an app.”

He just stares at her. “I’m sorry, I thought you just said that you get assigned souls to send to the afterlife through an _app_.”

“Maybe because that’s what I said.” She grabs her phone from the table, figuring it’s easier to just show him. “Here.”

She opens the app and hands the phone to him.

“So this is your schedule for the week?” he asks, and she nods. “What happens if I click on one of them?”

“You open that particular Transfer,” Clarke tells him, clicking a Transfer she has on Thursday. “This is all the information I get: name and age for the person in question. Date and time of death, and cause of death.”

“How do you know where it is? There’s no address.”

She clicks on the coordinates at the bottom of the screen and it changes to a map. “There you are.”

“This is, like… high tech,” Bellamy notes, handing her back the phone.

“We’re hip, we move with the times,” she tells him with a smirk.

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain no person has ever said that who actually _did_ move with the times.” Before she can think about it, Clarke reaches out and shoves his shoulder lightly, but to her relief, he just laughs. “How did you get assignments before the app?”

“Email. And before that, good old fashion snail mail, which is how I got them when I started out. It took a long time for things to change on that front.”

“And you got physical maps back then, or what?”

Now he really does sound curious, like he wants to know more about it.

“Usually just an address, sometimes maps, if it wasn’t in a town or something. Getting coordinates and interactive maps has really made everything easier.”

Bellamy considers her for a moment. “Could I download that app? I mean, is it in the app store?”

“It is, and you could. But it would just look like some sort of abandoned beta version of a game, I think, you have to log in using your fingerprint.”

He whistles quietly. “You really _are_ high tech.”

“Told you.”

“So this Transfer you have today, where is it?” he asks, changing the topic slightly.

“It’s on the corner of Madison and East 26th.” She hesitates for a moment before charging ahead. “Actually, Raven suggested I take you to it. If you didn’t believe me. Apparently, it’s going to be a car accident, she figured it would be a way to… give you visual proof, I guess.”

He considers that for a moment. “I… I can go with you, if you want?”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I… I think I want to. I mean, I do believe you, really, but it’s still…”

“A lot to take in,” Clarke finishes for him. “I get it. But just if you’re absolutely sure.”

He nods determinedly before glancing at the clock. “I am. How about if we head out now, maybe grab some lunch on the way?”

The idea of food still makes her stomach grumble in an unpleasant way, but maybe she’ll be able to work up an appetite on the way.

“OK.”

They both change before leaving the apartment, bundling up against the cold day. The train is pretty empty, despite it being well into the afternoon by now. Clarke supposes most people just lounge around on a day like this, ordering take out, enjoying the last actual holiday before they have to go back to work.

She’s still not particularly hungry when they emerge onto 14th Street, but Bellamy is insistent, so in the end, they compromise and grab Subway to go. She manages to finish almost all of her sub, at least enough for him to be happy.

They get to the spot with about ten minutes to spare, and Clarke leads the way to a bench just a little ways along East 26th. There’s traffic, because there always is in New York, but not as much as there would be on a regular weekday. Pedestrians hustle up and down the sidewalk on each side of the street, but they don’t have to dodge out of each other’s way.

“So what do you know about this person?” Bellamy asks quietly after a few minutes, glancing around as if he’s expecting someone to be eavesdropping.

She pulls her phone out and opens the app.

“Sarah Horowitz, female, 34,” she reads. “January 1, 4:01 PM. COD: road traffic accident.”

“So there’s not really any way to tell who she might be,” he says.

She hesitates for a moment. She could tell him about the Numbers, how she can tell who it is she’s there to Transfer if she can see their forehead. But then he might ask about his own, and she doesn’t want to have that conversation out here.

“Not really, no,” she replies, which isn’t technically a lie – she’s spotted a few Numbers since they sat down, but none of them have been zeros, so she hasn’t been able to identify Sarah.

“You don’t need to, like, touch her to be able to transfer her soul?” he asks after a moment, eyes widening. “With you not being, you know, invisible, that might be tricky…”

Clarke can’t help but laugh at that. “I told you it wasn’t just like in _Dead Like Me_. No, I don’t need to touch her. I don’t even have to be that close to her, sometimes we can’t be, like if someone dies in their home in a high-rise or something, or in buildings there’s no way for civilians to access.”

He nods. “Right. Makes sense.”

The time on her phone changes to 4:00 and she shuts down the app and puts the phone away, scanning the intersection to their right.

She doesn’t spot Sarah until a few seconds before she’s gone. A bike zips past them, weaving in between the cars, the red uniform of a messenger company flashing between the vehicles. Moments later, there’s the screech of brakes and a loud thud.

She has just enough time to grab Bellamy’s arm before the memories flood her mind.

When her eyes focus on the street in front of her again after the images have stopped, she can feel Bellamy watching her. She takes a deep breath before turning to face him. Behind him, in the intersection, traffic has stopped and people have gotten out of cars. Someone’s yelling about calling 911.

His eyes are wide, boring into hers. “What the hell was that?”

“That was a Transfer,” Clarke replies. “I guess I never got around to telling you how they actually work.”

“No kidding? It was like you… went into a trance or something. I tried to get your attention, but nothing, you were just staring straight ahead, but like you couldn’t see anything, you know.”

She’s been with Raven and other friends when they’ve done Transfers, so she knows what it looks like to an outsider, but it’s still odd to hear Bellamy describing her during one.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” she says, getting to her feet, a little shaky but not too bad. He stands up next to her and slips his hand into hers, which makes her heart soar in her chest.

“So she’s… gone?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

She nods. “Yeah.”

They head in the opposite direction, along the park on East 26th.

“OK, tell me what it was that I just saw,” Bellamy says when they’ve turned the corner onto 5th Avenue.

“You know how people who have had a near death experience sometimes say that they saw their lives flash before their eyes?” she asks.

“Yeah?”

“Well, that’s basically what a Transfer is like for me. I see flashes of the person’s life, their most… powerful memories, I guess.”

“Like a movie or something?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No, it’s like I _am_ them, you know? I see their memories the way they did, experience those moments _as_ them – what they see, hear, smell, feel.” She shudders a little at the memories of the births of Sarah’s two kids that she just had brief flashes of a moment ago. “It’s hard to explain.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. “That must be intense,” he finally says, glancing at her.

“Yeah, that’s why Transfers are emotionally draining. How much they affect you depends on the person, their memories, your own experiences.”

“So bad memories are harder?” Bellamy rightly concludes.

“Yeah. I mean, at first, I was a mess after every single one, experiencing people’s happy and sad moments, especially the sad ones – the loss of loved ones, especially. These days… well, you get used to everything, you know? So standard Transfers, like this one, they don’t affect me as much anymore.”

“But there are still difficult ones?”

“Yeah. The day we met, I had just done a Transfer in Central Park. A man, 53 years old. His dad was an alcoholic during his childhood and he was beaten and locked in closets and cupboards when he didn’t behave the way his parents wanted him to. He got out, though, met a nice girl, got married… then their daughter was killed in a car accident, and his wife took her own life… in the end, he started drinking too. That one was hard.”

He squeezes her hand. “I’m sorry. But this one was… better? Strange word, maybe, but you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Clarke assures him. “And yes. Not a lot of sad memories – she lost her grandparents in her teens, that was about it. Birthdays, graduations, her own wedding, the birth of her two kids… she had a happy life.”

“That’s good,” he says with a sigh. “Earlier, you were talking about when you have a lot of souls to transfer at the same time, like during disasters, how that was harder.”

“It is. You don’t get the individual memories the same way you do with single Transfers, it’s more like… you know when you’re in the middle of a large room with dozens of people around you and everyone is talking at the same time? You can’t really make out what anyone is saying, it’s just a murmur of different voices and words, but it’s all these impressions fighting for your attention, pulling it in different directions. It’s kind of like that, and it’s really tiring. I couldn’t get out of bed for days after the earthquake in San Francisco.”

Bellamy nods thoughtfully at that, but doesn’t ask anything else, and they continue in silence to the train.

In fact, he doesn’t say anything more about it until they’re back home again.

“Do you ever…” he starts when they’re seated on the couch. “I know it wasn’t possible this time, but sometimes you must be able to tell who it is that you’re there for. Do you ever think about… intervening?”

Clarke frowns. “Intervening?” She thinks she knows what he means, but she wants to be sure.

“Yeah. Like, say someone’s supposed to… I don’t know, drown in a lake. It’s obvious who it is, do you ever think about warning them?”

God, it’s the opening she’s been both dreading and hoping for. She takes a deep breath.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t make a difference, they would still die.”

“Well, yeah, everyone does, eventually. Except you, apparently.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t mean eventually. Say that I did warn someone who was going to drown not to get into the water or whatever. I would just be delaying the inevitable. They would stay out of the water and instead they’d get hit by a bus on the way home. Or fall in the shower and break their neck. Or have an allergic reaction during dinner. There would be something else, and they would still die, because that’s their day.”

Bellamy’s brow furrows at her words. “Their day?”

“Their day to die. Everyone has a day that they’re going to die, there’s nothing me or anyone else can do about that.”

“You mean like fate?”

She shrugs. “I guess you could call it that, yeah.” She pauses, taking a deep breath before she continues. “Fate, destiny, kismet, call it what you want. The point is, everyone has a Number.”

“A number?”

“Yeah.” This part she has prepared, even practiced to herself, so she just launches right into her explanation. “When you’re born, you get a Number, which is the number of days left until the day you’re going to die. With each day, this number counts down, until it gets to zero on the day in question.”

Clarke watches as he tries to wrap his mind around the concept.

“So it’s sort of like an internal clock, counting down?” he finally asks.

“Well, it’s just days, not hours or minutes or seconds,” she replies. “And it’s… not really internal.”

“What do you mean?”

OK, this is it. No turning back.

“Normal people can’t see the Numbers, so you won’t be able to, but… Soul Keepers can.”

She can’t help but glance at his forehead when she says it, and Bellamy of course notices. His hand flies up to press against the spot, covering his Number.

“It’s here?” She just nods quietly. “So what’s… what’s my Number? I mean, you don’t have to tell me the exact number if you don’t want to, I don’t know if I want to know the day I’m going to die but… ballpark figure. You know, how many years do I have left.”

She knows what he means – he just wants a rough estimate, not an exact timeline. She squeezes her eyes closed for a moment before speaking. “Two oh seven.”

His hand falls into his lap and he just looks at her for so long that Clarke almost starts worrying that he’s gone into shock or something. After a while, though, he clears his throat.

“Two oh seven as in two hundred and seven days?”

She nods. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s… when is that…?”

He trails off, but she answers anyway. “July 27.”

“Well… fuck.”

Silence falls over them, interrupted by a meow from Bastet as she jumps onto the couch and butts Bellamy’s leg with her head. He reaches out a hand almost absentmindedly and pets her.

Clarke wants to ask what he’s thinking, somehow reassure him – which she knows is impossible – but she forces herself to stay quiet and wait for him to take the lead.

“Is that why you’re telling me?” he finally asks after a few long, silent minutes. Then his eyes widen. “It’s OK that you are, right? You’re not going to get in trouble for telling me about this whole thing?”

She chooses to focus on his second question first, mainly because she wants to think through her answer to the first one. “No, no, it’s fine,” she assures him. “It happens… OK, not _all_ the time, but definitely pretty regularly, and there aren’t any rules or anything against it.”

“So other Soul Keepers, they tell… Norms?” he asks, hesitating a little at the last word.

Clarke nods. “Some do, yes. Usually when they’re in some sort of long term relationship with someone, either a close friendship or a romantic relationship. It’s… really inevitable, after a while, once it starts to get obvious that we’re not aging.”

“Is that usually when you’d tell someone? When you can’t get out of it?”

It’s not like she has a ton of knowledge on the matter – apart from Raven, only Harper in their friend group has done this, as far as Clarke knows, and her boyfriend broke up with her when she told him.

“I don’t know if that’s how everyone does it, but the people I know who have told their partners have waited until then, yes. Six, seven years or so is usually when we’re reassigned to a new city, since we can’t stay too long in the same place without people starting to notice that we don’t age. I don’t know, really, but maybe they wait until then to make it easier if the partner can’t handle the situation. A clean break if it goes badly.”

“But that’s obviously not what’s happening here,” Bellamy concludes. “So the reason you’re telling me is that I’m… dying.”

Hearing the words out loud is like a knife being twisted in her gut and she has to take a deep breath before she can answer.

“It’s part of it,” she agrees.

“And if I hadn’t been, you wouldn’t have told me?” he pushes. “You would have waited six, seven years, until you had to leave New York? Kept lying to me the whole time?”

His voice is calm but Clarke can sense the anger just below the surface.

“I honestly don’t know,” she admits, holding up a hand when he opens his mouth to say something. “Just listen to me, OK? I _don’t_ _know_. Because I’ve never been in this kind of situation before. I’ve never told anyone about being a Soul Keeper, because I’ve never had any kind of relationship with a Norm. So yeah, maybe I would have waited. I really can’t tell you because that’s not the way things are and I can’t just… magically know how I would be thinking or feeling if it was.”

“Fair enough, I guess,” he says.

“But for what it’s worth, I really have hated lying to you,” she continues. "Even the little lies, like when I’ve had Transfers and you’ve been home and I had to say something to get out of the apartment. It’s been slowly eating me up inside and then when you told me about Octavia, and you said you didn’t want us to have any secrets…”

Bellamy gives her a scrutinizing look. “Is that why you were having trouble sleeping?” he asks. “I didn’t even realize, but that’s when it started, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “It felt like you were making an effort to be open and honest with me, and I was just lying through my teeth almost every time I opened my mouth…”

He reaches out to squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry it was my fault you had trouble sleeping.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It sort of was, though.” He pauses, lets out a sigh. “I just… the whole thing with O, it felt like I had been deliberately hiding it from you, brushing off questions about her when you asked, and I hated it. But it’s not the same thing, so I am sorry it made you feel that way.”

Clarke offers him a smile. “It’s OK. It gave me the kick in the butt I needed to actually figure out a way to talk to you, tell you everything.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad… I think. I am glad you told me about the Soul Keeper thing, just… not sure about the rest yet.”

“I get that.”

They both go quiet for a moment, but she can tell from his furrowed brows that Bellamy’s thinking hard. After a little while he clears his throat.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what made you bolt on Halloween, since it obviously wasn’t getting over a rough breakup.” He pauses to look at her, eyebrow raised. “Or was it? Just not Lexa? But why wouldn’t you just use the actual breakup as an excuse instead of claiming it was one that happened… decades ago?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No, the breakup thing was just the excuse Zeke came up with when Miller asked for my number to give to you. I guess it was the most reasonable one to him, which I get. I’ve been single for over ten years, so no rough breakup recently. The reason I used Lexa was that she’s really the only bad breakup I’ve had, strange as that may sound. Me and Wells, we just sort of grew apart, we’re more like siblings these days than anything. And Niylah, even though we were together for a couple of years, it was never really serious, so when it was time for both of us to move on and we didn’t want to be posted in the same city, we just sort of called it quits, no hard feelings.”

Bellamy nods thoughtfully. “Those are the long term relationships you’ve been in?”

“I know it doesn’t sound like a lot, considering how long I’ve been around… it took me a while to get into the swing of things enough to even consider a relationship. And, well the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries weren’t exactly ideal for dating, it was all courtship and marriage, even among us Keepers… I met Lexa here in New York in… 1912 I think, and we became a couple in 1913.”

“And you broke up in 1936, so… wow, twenty-three years.”

“Yeah. Not that long when you live forever,” she notes with a half-smile. “The breakup _was_ hard, at the time, she did actually just leave pretty much out of the blue, and it took me a while to let anyone in after… Wells and I had known each other for… over seventy years when we were both posted in London at the same time, without knowing any of the other Keepers there at first and we sort of just gravitated towards each other. We ended things in 1971, and after that, I guess I wasn’t really interested in anything long term for a while. With the sixties and seventies came the sexual revolution, so suddenly it was fine to date casually or have flings that didn’t lead anywhere. It was over thirty years before I even considered a relationship again, and Niylah and I never really got past the semi-serious dating in the two years we were together.” Clarke takes a deep breath. “But you were asking about Halloween.”

“Yeah.”

She wants to tell him, doesn’t want to hide anything anymore, but like with everything else, she’s not sure how he’ll react. Could this be the final drop?

“That was the first time I saw your Number,” she reveals, watching him carefully for any kind of reaction.

But Bellamy just nods. “I kind of figured. And you panicked.”

“Yeah. I told you I’ve never been involved with a Norm before, because I just… I’ve seen how these things go. Some people really can’t handle finding out and end things right away, while others might think they’re fine with it only to realize that it’s not that much fun to have a partner who looks thirty years younger. And even if that doesn’t happen…” She trails off, a lump forming in her throat.

“If that doesn’t happen,” he takes over, “we eventually die.”

“Exactly.”

“Just not usually this quickly.”

Clarke lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob at his attempt to joke about it.

“So yeah, I panicked. I had already been doubting whether it was a good idea to get closer to you, and that was basically confirmation that my first instinct to stay away had been right. But even so, I think I knew, somewhere deep down, that it was already too late at that point. I wouldn’t have been able to stay away from you if I tried… which I obviously did.”

“And I messed that up by showing up at the library.”

“No.” She reaches for his hand, a little tentative, but he interlaces their fingers and gives her hand a little squeeze, which she takes as encouragement. “You just… sped up the inevitable. After this last month or so, I have no doubt whatsoever that we would have bumped into each other again if neither of us had done something at that point. I think maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”

Bellamy smiles at that. “You know, I figured that one out when I pulled you out of the way of a cab.”

“Yeah, well, you’re obviously the smarter of the two of us.”

He laughs briefly before his eyes widen a little. “Hey!” he exclaims, as if something major has just occurred to him. “That’s why you were being all weird, asking what I would do if I…”

“Yeah,” she cuts him off, not wanting to hear him talk about dying again. “I mean, my brain really was sleep deprived, I’d had, like, a total of eight hours of sleep in three days. I think maybe I wanted something concrete to focus on, you know? Like, ‘oh, I’ve always wanted to… drive Route 66’ or whatever. Something that I could make happen without having to actually tell you. It’s stupid, I know.”

“No, it’s not,” Bellamy disagrees. “It’s really sweet.”

She looks at him for a moment before continuing. “So will you let me do that?”

His brows furrow. “Do what?”

“You said you’d want to travel, remember?” she reminds him. “If money wasn’t an issue, you’d want to go to all the places you’ve read about – Italy, Greece, China…”

“ _If_ money wasn’t an issue, yeah.”

“And it’s not,” she tells him. “I have the money to do this, more than enough.”

He just stares at her for a long moment. “You’re serious.”

“Yes.” Clarke gets up from the couch and pulls him up too. “Come on.”

She drags him to her desk, where she powers up the computer and opens a browser.

“What are you…?” he starts, but trails off when she navigates to her internet bank and logs in.

She opens her debit account.

“This is the account I mainly use,” she says. “It’s where my salary goes, where I get payments for the paintings I sell on Etsy, where the rent from my house in San Francisco or this place, when I’m not living here, comes in.”

“You have a house in San Francisco?”

“That’s not the point right now, but yes. Can you just look at the numbers?”

Bellamy sighs but does as she asks him to, and she can see his eyes widen when he takes in the amount in the account, then even more when he sees what she gets paid.

“That’s more than I make before taxes,” he notes, trying to keep his voice light but not quite succeeding.

“Maybe that’s one of the draws during recruiting,” she says with a shrug. “Good pay and not a lot of work. Emotionally draining, sure, but not so much physically.”

“Plus, you don’t pay taxes,” he notes.

“Yes, I do,” she retorts. “Don’t ask me how it works, but I’m ‘employed’ by SK Ltd. and me and other Keepers pay taxes like everyone else.”

He just stares at her for a moment before shaking his head. “I still don’t see how you don’t question all of that more. Where does that money come from? It’s not like you earn money for a company by doing those Transfers.”

She considers his words for a moment before replying. “Maybe they have other sources of revenue? I honestly have no idea, but there’s no point thinking about it, it’s not like I’ll get any answers.”

He shrugs. “I guess that makes sense. You can’t just go around questioning your entire existence all the time, you’d go crazy.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, turning back to the computer. “So… what do you say? Round the world trip, ancient Roman ruins, the Parthenon, Great wall of China…”

He sighs. “I just… OK, so you make a lot of money, I don’t see why I should let you spend a huge chunk of it on taking me on some trip.”

She doesn’t respond, just clicks to open her savings account.

“It wouldn’t be a huge chunk,” she says as he stares at the screen.

“That’s… a lot of numbers,” he says after a long moment.

Clarke turns her back to the computer so she can face him, waiting until he looks up at her before she speaks. “I’m not showing you this to make you feel bad, OK? I just… I want you to see that I can do this, if you let me. I honestly don’t spend that much money, it’s not like I pay rent on this place. I donate money regularly, but even so, I have way more money coming in than going out. I also have a stock portfolio, but Raven’s in charge of it and I can’t access it on my own. I can get her to show you, though, there should be quite a bit of money in that, it’s been a while since I sold anything and reinvested.”

He runs a hand over his face. “No, that’s… it’s OK.”

“So will you let me do this for you?” she asks, voice pleading. “And it wouldn’t just be for you, either, it would be for me. I’m being selfish here, really. Getting to do something to make the next six months or so the best they can be, getting to experience all of these things with you… I want that for me, too. OK?”

Bellamy looks away from her, back at the screen behind her, and then closes his eyes. “Can I… can you give me a little time to think about it?” he asks. “Just a few days. I need to really wrap my mind around all of this.”

She takes a tentative step towards him and, when he doesn’t move away, another, so she can wrap her arms around him and lean her head against his chest. His arms go around her too and she feels his chin against the top of her head.

“Of course.”


	21. Your Faith Walks on Broken Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So – the big reveal is over, and Bellamy knows the truth. Now what? Will he let Clarke take him on the adventure of a lifetime? A bit more on Octavia in this chapter, I don’t know if anyone’s been hoping for that ;)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “21 Guns” by Green Day
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Somehow, they manage to let the whole topic of Soul Keepers and upcoming death go and spend the rest of the day curled up together under a blanket on the couch, watching Netflix. They order take-out for dinner and Clarke digs some ice cream out of the freezer for dessert, and they eat it right out of the carton, their spoons clanging together when they try to scoop up another bite at the same time.

They’re in the middle of a _Parks and Rec_ episode, Bellamy stretched out on his back along the couch and Clarke on top of him, her cheek against his chest, when the screen on her phone lights up. She reaches for the device but it’s about an inch too far away, so he grabs it for her.

“Raven,” he notes as he glances at the screen before handing her the phone.

“Crap,” she says. “I must have missed a bunch of texts, she doesn’t usually call first thing.”

“Go ahead,” he tells her, grabbing the remote to pause the show.

Clarke reluctantly pushes herself off him and slides her finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Hey, sorry, I’ve had the sound off all afternoon,” she says as a greeting.

_“Right,”_ Raven’s voice comes over the line. _“So I take it things are OK?”_

Clarke glances at Bellamy, who’s now sitting up on the couch, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Yeah, we’re OK,” she confirms quietly, moving into the kitchen. “We’ve talked some more, he came with me to the Transfer and then I… told him the rest.”

_“How’d he take that?”_

She sighs. “About as well as can be expected, I think. He’s agreed to think about the whole trip thing, so that’s good.”

_“Yeah, good. So we don’t need to be on standby anymore?”_

“No. But thank you, I really appreciate it.”

_“Always, babe. OK, let me know if you do need anything.”_

“I will, promise. Love you.”

_“Love you too.”_

“Everything OK?”

She turns at Bellamy’s voice, finding him leaning against the other side of the breakfast bar.

“Everything’s fine,” she assures him with a smile. “Raven and Zeke were sort of backup today, in case I needed help.”

“Did you expect to?” he asks with a frown.

“I had no idea,” she replies. “Again, I’ve never actually done this before. But I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared, and Raven actually _has_ done it before, so…”

He nods thoughtfully before raising an eyebrow at her. “Hungry?”

Clarke looks down and realizes that she has one hand on the handle on the fridge door. “Not at all. You?”

He shakes his head. “I was actually thinking of maybe calling it a night,” he says. “Pretty tired.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” she agrees, silently wondering if he’ll want to share the bed with her or if he’ll decide to sleep in the guest room. The thought makes her entire body feel cold.

But when she rounds the counter, he wraps an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple. “Come on.”

They get ready for bed in silence, taking turns in the bathroom as they always do – it’s only been a little over a month, when did that start feeling like _always_ – and while he’s brushing his teeth, she pulls on a t-shirt and slides between the sheets.

A few minutes later, the faucet in the bathroom turns off and a moment after that, Bellamy enters the bedroom again.

She stays completely still, flat on her back, as he gets into bed, unsure of whether he’ll stay on his side, keeping space between them, or lay down right next to her, like he usually does.

When he moves into the middle of the bed and wraps an arm around her to tug her against him, Clarke lets out a breath. She relaxes in his embrace, wrapping her own arm around his middle and pressing her nose against his throat.

He pulls the comforter up to cover both of them before tightening his hold on her, one hand trailing down until he finds bare skin on her hip. He brushes his thumb back and forth a couple of times before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Sleep.”

And somehow – maybe because she’s completely exhausted emotionally – she does.

-100-

Clarke jolts awake the next morning when Bellamy literally jumps out of bed.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath as he hurries around the bed and opens the door to the walk-in closet.

“What’s wrong?” she asks dazedly, trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes.

“I forgot to set my alarm,” he calls from somewhere inside the closet. “Overslept.”

She rolls onto her side and grabs her phone from the nightstand and, sure enough, it’s a little after seven thirty.

Bellamy appears in the doorway to the closet, work pants in one hand while he tries to pull his green polo shirt over his head with the other, and bumps his shoulder on the doorjamb since he can’t see where he’s going.

“Ow,” he complains when he emerges from the opening.

“Hey,” Clarke says, reaching out to grab him by the arm before he can disappear into the bathroom. “Slow down.”

“I can’t, I’m already late, I have to hurry,” he tells her, but he does stop, his whole body sagging a little.

“OK, but just hear me out,” she insists. “Yesterday was… a rough day, OK? Emotionally and mentally and… maybe you need to take some time to just let everything sink in.”

He frowns at her words. “You want me to take a sick day?”

“Yes. I mean, you forgot to set the alarm, have you ever done that before?” When he shakes his head, she continues. “So that was probably your subconscious trying to tell you that you need to take it easy today.”

Bellamy gives her an extremely doubtful look at that. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“OK, but tell me this,” she says, changing tactics. “Did you sleep OK?”

She can tell by the way he looks away from her that the answer is no.

“Maybe not great,” he admits. “I had some trouble falling asleep, and then I kept having weird dreams that woke me up… but I’m fine, honestly. Nothing a cup of coffee or three won’t fix.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “You’re staying home today, that’s final.”

“Oh, is it?” he counters, one eyebrow raised, and Clarke knows that look. It’s a look that makes her entire body tingle with anticipation. “Tell you what – I’ll take a sick day today if you promise that we won’t leave this bed.”

She can feel her heart rate react to his words immediately, but still pretends to think about it. “I guess I can agree to those terms.”

“Then we have a deal. I just need to call in, back in a moment.”

She lets him go so he can grab his phone and leave the room to make the call. He doesn’t close the door and she picks up bits and pieces of the conversation – cold, been coughing all night, should be fine tomorrow. He hangs up soon enough, returning to the bedroom and pulling the shirt he just managed to get half on earlier off again.

“Now…” he says when he’s closed the door behind him, and then he literally _pounces_ on her, somehow managing to not actually land on top of her. “Whatever are we going to do with all this spare time?”

“Hmm…” Clarke licks her lips slowly, pleased when she sees his eyes dart to her mouth. “I think I might have a few ideas.”

He leans down slowly, until they’re just inches apart. “Oh yeah?” At the last second, he bypasses her mouth and instead brushes his lips against her ear. “Do share.”

“Mmmm,” she hums as he pulls her earlobe into his mouth, teeth grazing the skin. “That’s a good start.”

Bellamy doesn’t linger, instead placing a quick, chaste kiss against the side of her throat. “And how about this?”

“Also good.” She trails a hand up his arm and around to slide her fingers into his hair, just as his tongue darts out to run along her collar bone, making her gasp.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh.”

He shifts his weight a little, onto one elbow, to be able to pull the collar of her t-shirt down and place an open mouthed kiss half an inch from her nipple. She whines a little and arches up against him, hoping he’ll take the hint and move just a little bit. Instead, he sucks on the spot, hard enough to leave a mark – not like anyone but him will see it there, though.

He sooths the spot with another kiss before placing another one a few inches further down, and then another one a little to the right. Not until he’s completed a full circuit around her nipple does he finally pull the already hard nub into his mouth, and Clarke can’t hold back a moan. Her hips jerk helplessly against him, trapped under the comforter by his knees on either side of her thighs. He seems to sense her frustration, though, and moves to lay down more fully on top of her, one leg wedged between hers, and she wastes no time in pushing up against his thigh, getting some friction even though the fluffy comforter is still between them. She tries to push it down, but it’s trapped between them and she soon gives up, trailing her hand up Bellamy’s side, nails scraping lightly against the skin, feeling him shiver a little when she reaches his ribs.

She manages to kick the comforter off her leg – the one not still trapped between his – and wraps it around his thigh to pull him tighter against her. Finally she can feel the beginning of his erection against her stomach. In response, he groans against her breast before abandoning it and searching out her lips for a searing kiss instead.

A moment later, he tugs on her shirt until he finds the hem and can slide a hand under the material, pushing it up as far as it will go. Goosebumps appear on her skin when it’s exposed to the cooler air of the room, but Clarke’s soon distracted from the slight chill when his warm hand covers her breast. He flicks her nipple with his thumb and she retaliates by biting lightly at his bottom lip.

“Feisty today, are we, Princess?” he asks amusedly, pulling away from her and repeating the motion. She squirms under him, letting out a moan when he pinches her nipple a little harder, and sees his eyes darken at the sound.

She doesn’t respond, just keeps her eyes locked on his as she pulls her shirt over her head. It gets stuck under her, since Bellamy’s still pinning her to the bed, but at least it’s all the way off. He hums his approval before leaning down and kissing her again.

The comforter is still between their lower bodies, though, but finally, he lifts himself off her for a moment and manages to pull it out of the way. The friction when he sinks down on top of her again goes straight to her core and she arches her hips against him. He groans into her mouth, fingers flexing against her side.

What she really wants to do is get rid of the last scraps of clothing separating them and get him inside her, but he seems to want to slow things down, his mouth and tongue moving lazily against hers, the hand not propping him up trailing all over every part of her that he can reach, never lingering long, just enough to set her skin on fire.

After what feels like hours, Clarke breaks the kiss to get some much needed air, and he moves to pepper kisses over her throat and chest. His mouth closes around one nipple at the same time as he tweaks the other with two fingers, and she arches off the bed into his touch.

“God, you can be such a tease,” she gets out before gasping when his teeth graze her pebbled nipple.

Bellamy chuckles against her skin. “Oh please, you love it and we both know it.”

Well… yeah. But she also loves what comes when he _stops_ teasing her…

He kisses his way up her chest again, latching onto a sensitive spot on her neck and grinding his hips against hers.

“You feel what you do to me?” he murmurs into her ear and she whimpers in confirmation, pushing up against him. His hand trails down her ribcage and stomach, pausing at the waistband of her panties. “Do I have the same effect on you, huh?”

Clarke has to bite her lip when he slips his hand inside and trails a finger up and down her slit a couple of times before pushing it into her.

“Like you don’t already know that.”

“Mm, I do,” he agrees, adding another finger and curling them just right.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy feeling just how wet you are for me.”

His lips cover hers and she eagerly opens up for him, the kiss turning deep and dirty as his fingers continue sliding in and out of her. He doesn’t put any pressure on her clit, so she knows he’s not trying to get her off, at least not yet.

When she feels like she can’t stand not having him inside her for another second, she fumbles for his boxers and tries to push them down, but she doesn’t get far. She expects Bellamy to maybe chuckle, call her eager and tease her a little longer, but to her surprise, he abruptly breaks the kiss and moves off her. A moment later, he tugs on her panties and she willingly lifts her hips to help him get them off.

Then he’s back on top of her, propped up on one hand, the other between them to guide him inside her, and finally, _finally_ they’re joined.

He pauses for a moment when he’s fully buries inside her, the way he almost always does, and their eyes lock. He maintains eye contact as he pulls out of her, but when he thrusts back inside, a little more force behind the movement, Clarke has to squeeze her eyes shut against the overwhelming feeling.

She wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him down, the kiss deep and needy. He groans as her nails dig into his shoulder, sinking down further so they’re almost skin on skin. The new angle makes his pelvic bone drag against her clit on each thrust, and before long, she’s falling over the edge.

Bellamy kisses her through it, slowing his thrusts a little as she comes back down. When she can think straight again, she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her and getting a moan in return.

She loses track of time for a while – the only thing in the world their bodies moving together, his lips and tongue against hers. Then he breaks the kiss, gasping for air as his movements turn sloppy, and a few thrusts later, he pulses inside her. He slips a hand between them, pressing down on her already sensitive clit, and she cries out as a second climax washes over her.

She’s still shaking from the power of it when he rolls them over and wraps his arms around her, holding her against his chest. She feels his lips against her temple.

“Love you.”

Clarke can’t quite form a complete sentence yet, so she just hums in agreement and presses her lips to his chest.

-100-

Bellamy goes back to work the next day, and apart from him asking about her Transfers when he gets home in the afternoon and her not having to lie about what she’s doing when she has one, things pretty much go back to normal.

Clarke decides to give him a week before she brings up the trip thing again. If he does agree to it, they need to start planning – flights and hotels need to be booked, not that she cares if she has to pay more for business class and five star hotels because everything is full, and he needs to either get a leave of absence or give his two weeks’ notice at work. She just needs a week heads up to note her unavailability in her work app, but still, she wants to get going. She’s already writing down places she wants to show him and things she wants to suggest doing. And if he doesn’t agree… well, she has her plan B.

She hasn’t contacted Octavia yet, but she’s keeping an eye on her Facebook – in a completely non-stalkerish way – and knows that she spent Christmas with her boyfriend’s family in some quaint village in the English countryside, since he’s apparently from Derbyshire, and then New Year’s with friends in Dublin. She’s back at work now, which is a gym where she’s a PT and holds classes in Piloxing and Ryde. Clarke has no idea what either of those are, but judging by the official photos on the gym’s website – Octavia’s Facebook photos are locked – she’s one of those way too athletic people that always make Clarke feel like a complete amateur whenever she ventures to a gym – which, granted, doesn’t happen that often.

Bellamy surprises her, though, on Saturday when he has the day off.

He has lunch ready when she gets back from her story time, and when both their plates are empty, he puts a notepad down next to his.

“What’s that?” she asks, nodding at it.

“It’s my list.”

She frowns. “Your list?”

“Yeah.” He nods slowly a couple of times. “I’ve decided to take you up on the whole trip thing.”

It takes Clarke a moment to really understand what he’s saying, but when she does, she throws her arms around him.

“Thank you!”

“I think _I_ should be thanking _you_ ,” he objects. “But I have one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Nothing too… extravagant, OK?” He gives her a stern look. “I know you can afford first class flights and five star hotels, and I’m not saying we stay in hostels or anything, but can we maybe settle for economy seats and three stars? It would make me feel much better about the whole thing and less like I’m taking advantage of you.”

It’s not like she was planning on them staying in luxury hotels or anything… at least not everywhere.

“Can I get a couple of fancy hotels?” she asks carefully. “There’s this place in Paris that Raven stayed at a couple of years ago that’s just… it’s amazing. And there are a few places I’ve been wanting to go to but haven’t gotten around to yet.”

Bellamy watches her through narrowed eyes for a moment. “OK, a couple.”

“Great. And I promise I’ll stick to economy unless it’s not an option, OK? But I might get seats with extra leg room on the longer flights – trust me, you’ll thank me.”

“Fine, I can agree to that,” he says.

She glances at the notebook again. “So what’s on the list?”

“Oh.” He opens it to the first page, which isn’t even full. “Places I want to see. I don’t know if we’ll be able to do everything, so I put them in order of how much I want to go there.”

Of course he did.

“Well, that would depend on when we can leave, really,” Clarke notes.

“Right. Well, I gave my two weeks’ notice at work yesterday and I have a couple of vacation days I can use, so my last day will be the 14th. I called the school and told them I’m taking a semester off…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying – that he’ll be gone by the time the fall semester rolls around, so it wouldn’t have mattered if he just dropped out. But she can see why saying that he’s taking a semester off would feel better. Bellamy Blake is not a quitter, and dropping out of school, no matter why, would be quitting. “And I talked to Miller, apparently he and Jackson have been thinking about moving in together and his lease is up at the end of the month, so he said they’d use this as a sort of trial run so I won’t have to pay rent.”

He’s really thought of everything.

“Do you have a current passport?”

Bellamy nods. “Doesn’t expire until 2022, so I’m good. I’ll swing by the apartment while I’m at work tomorrow and pick it up, I’m guessing we might need it for plane tickets or visas or something.”

“Plane tickets, definitely, visas, that depends on what’s on your list. So let’s have a look.”

The list has two levels – first either a city or a country, and in case of a country there are two or more cities listed under it. There are also some bullet points that are single places and also experiences, like Northern lights, which is number five on the list.

**_Philippines  
_ ** _Manila  
Taytay_

“My dad was from Taytay,” he says. “It’s a pretty big city not too far from Manila, about an hour, so I figured we could maybe do a couple of days in each city.”

“Do you have any info on your dad?” she asks. “Name, some sort of ID number, an old address, names of relatives?”

Clarke is already going through a mental list of Keepers she knows, wondering if any of them are in the Philippines at the moment and can help her out on the ground. Maybe they can find other family members, though she’s not entirely sure how well the population register over there works.

“The only thing I have is a sort of scrap book that Mom put together, with the handful of pictures she had of him,” he replies. “There’s some other stuff in there, his old passport, I think, so there might be something.”

“Do you know when he was born?”

He frowns. “I know Mom was nineteen when they had me and I think he was maybe two years older, so… 1967 or thereabouts.”

So there might even be grandparents still alive… “Get the scrap book when you pick up your passport and I’ll see if I can do some research before we get there.”

Bellamy nods at that.

**_Italy  
_ ** _Rome  
Pompeii_

**_Greece  
_ ** _Athens  
Sparta  
Crete_

_Cairo – pyramids_

_Northern lights_

“I think Iceland is the safest bet for Northern lights,” she notes when she gets to that one.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that too,” Bellamy agrees. “And I know that there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to see them, but I figure it’s at least worth a shot.”

“No, you can never be sure with nature… but I’ll look into it and give us the best possible premises, OK?”

“Sounds good.”

_Petra?_

“Why is there a question mark after Petra?” Clarke ask curiously.

“I just wasn’t sure if it’s even possible to get into Jordan,” he replies with a shrug. “Considering the situation in the area.”

Neither is she, to be honest. “We’ll see.”

**_China  
_ ** _Beijing  
Great wall_

**_American road trip  
_ ** _San Francisco  
Las Vegas  
Hoover Dam  
Grand Canyon  
Route 66  
San Antonio – the Alamo  
Houston  
New Orleans  
Williamsburg + Jamestown_

“That’s a pretty condensed version of the Great American Road Trip,” she notes.

Bellamy shrugs. “I’ve been to all the places I want to see in the north east. Miller dragged me along to Florida on his last spring break in college, we even went to Disney World – I know, a little creepy for two twenty-one-year-old guys – and we were in LA just last spring, we started saving up as soon as the Harry Potter World opened up at Universal. Trust me, I’ve gone through the whole country in my head, these are the places I want to see that I haven’t already.”

“OK.” She reaches out to take his hand and interlaces their fingers. “Why Houston and New Orleans?”

He plays with her fingers a little, seemingly intensely focused on them. “I’ve always wanted to see New Orleans, not sure why, and I have a… an old friend in Houston that I’d like to see one last time.”

Clarke thinks there might be something there he’s not telling her, but she’s not going to push. “OK.”

****_UK_  
_London  
Stonehenge_

_Paris_

_Machu Picchu_

_Chichén Itzá_

_Angkor Wat_

_Taj Mahal_

_Auschwitz_

_Sydney_

_New Zealand_

“No specific places in New Zealand?” Clarke asks when she reaches the end of the list.

“Honestly? I kind of just want to see the settings for all the _Lord of the Rings_ movies,” he admits with a half-smile.

“OK,” she says with a laugh. “I’m sure there are tours and stuff, I’ll look into it.”

She looks the list over once more. She figures the road trip – which will be the final leg of the journey – might take three or four weeks, if they want to stay for a few days or maybe a week in San Francisco and Las Vegas. If they can leave by the 20th, that still gives them six months for the other… twenty-one places. Some stops might just be a day or two but others will definitely require at least a week. Still, she thinks it should work fine, and she’ll even be able to fit in a visit to Dublin to see Octavia, and maybe a week or two on a white beach somewhere with crystal clear water, as a bit of a break…

“Is there anything in particular you want to do?” she asks.

“Like what?” Bellamy replies.

“I don’t know, a bucket list – skydiving, bungee jumping, swimming with sharks… though please don’t take those as suggestions, I’m just brainstorming.”

He laughs quietly. “No, I’ve never been much of an adrenaline junkie, so I’m good. There’s nothing that really comes to mind immediately, but I’ll think about it.”

“That’s a relief. OK, I will start planning, but maybe you can write down the specific things you want to see and do in each place? I mean like the Colosseum in Rome and whatever ruins there are in Greece, for example, just put down everything you can think of. It might be a good idea to book tickets to some things in advance so we don’t end up missing out if something’s fully booked the whole time we’re there.”

“OK, I will. So do you think we’ll be able to go everywhere?”

“Well, I’m not sure about Jordan either, but the other places shouldn’t be a problem. Time wise, we should be fine, I might even be able to add a couple of things too, if that’s OK?”

“Of course, I would love to see your favorite spots.”

“Well, I’ve lived in a few of these places and visited others, though far from all of them… I think I can come up with a couple of things away from the regular tourist traps to take you to.” She glances at him. “When… when do you want to be back in New York? I mean, assuming you do want to…” She pauses again, because she _cannot_ say ‘die’, she just can’t. “Finish up the trip here. We don’t have to, we can do, like, a paradise beach in the Caribbean or something, if you want.”

He considers her question for a long moment. “No, I think… I think I need to be back here. New York’s always been home, you know?” Of course she does. New York has been her home even when she hasn’t lived here for decades. “So maybe on the twentieth? I want to… just so we can settle down and spend some quiet time together, you know. Maybe have everyone over for dinner or something on the… the twenty-sixth.”

Clarke’s pretty sure he almost brought up his sister but changed his mind at the last minute. Should she say something? No, she decides. He’ll probably plan to look her up when they get back, it’s OK to let him think that for a couple of weeks. If she hadn’t already found Octavia, she might have pushed just a little to get him to do it before they leave, instead of putting it off to the last minute, but as it is, she feels OK leaving it be for now.

She deliberately does not linger on the last part of his statement, because if she does, she knows she won’t be able to think about anything else.


	22. We'll Ride Through the City Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to make some travel plans! It feels a little ironic to post this now, considering the current situation in the world… Also, time for some Octavia!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “The Passenger” by Iggy Pop

The next morning, after Bellamy has left for work, Clarke sits down at her desk and starts planning.

The first thing she does is write to Octavia. She knows it’s possible, maybe even likely, that she won’t even get a response – who reads a random message from a stranger on Facebook? Clarke definitely doesn’t. But she puts Bellamy’s name early in the message, hoping that the younger Blake will see it and at least be curious enough to find out what’s in the message.

_Hi Octavia!  
You don’t know me, but my name is Clarke and I’m Bellamy’s girlfriend. I know it’s strange for me to contact you out of the blue like this… especially since I know the two of you had a falling out years ago and haven’t spoken since. But I know Bellamy misses you every day and really wants to see you and make things right between you again. I hope you do as well.   
We’re going on a trip to Europe very soon and I was hoping that we could get together while we’re there? Sorry about the Facebook stalking, by the way, but I didn’t know how else to find you… please don’t hold it against me (or him).   
Hope to hear from you soon! Clarke Griffin_

She has a couple of backup plans if she doesn’t hear anything. First, she’s going to see if she can find a phone number, either for Octavia or for her boyfriend, a guy called Lincoln that looks more like a wrestler or gang member than the photographer that he apparently is. There has to be some sort of directory service in Ireland. If that fails, she’s already checked out the website for the gym where Octavia works and knows there’s a phone number on there. She’ll call and ask for Octavia, or pretend there’s a family emergency or something if they won’t let her talk to her for some reason. And if _that_ fails… well, she doesn’t _want_ to show up unannounced on Octavia’s doorstep, but she will if she has to. She’ll just have to come up with something to keep Bellamy occupied for a while and allow her to sneak off, because she’s not going to bring him along on a surprise visit to his estranged sister only to have her slam the door in their faces.

She really hopes it doesn’t come to that, though.

Next, she registers the time she’ll be unavailable in her work app. She puts the 15th as her first day off, not that she thinks they’ll leave that soon, but to be able to focus on last minute things. She hesitates when she’s picking a last date, though, remembering Raven after Finn died, how she hadn’t even gotten out of bed for over a week and then been almost a zombie for the next month… before her mind can delve too deeply into that rabbit hole, she puts August 31st as the last date of her leave. If she does feel like she can’t handle going back at that point, she can always extend it. Her shifts at the library are only on a volunteer basis, and she has to approve them beforehand, so she can just let them know that she won’t be able to do anymore for a while when she goes in later in the afternoon. She doesn’t have any outstanding commissions – January is usually pretty quiet – but she turns on vacation mode on her Etsy shop.

She also calls Harper and asks if she and Monty would mind house and cat sitting while they’re gone. She knows that Raven would never say no to having Bastet stay with them, but the cat and Lola really don’t get along and Clarke doesn’t want Bas to spend months hiding out on top of shelves and cupboards. And Harper is one of very few people that Bas actually seems to like, apart from Clarke herself and, now, Bellamy. Luckily, she agrees immediately, seemingly happy to get out of the apartment she and Monty share in the Soul Keeper building on the Upper East Side. Clarke suspects she might think that moving away from Jasper, who lives just next door to them with Maya, might mean less time that Monty and Jasper spend playing video games and more time for Harper with her boyfriend. Personally, Clarke’s not sure that’ll work out the way her friend hopes.

With all the practicalities of leaving New York for six months out of the way, she starts working on an itinerary that won’t mean they have to go back and forth too much. Since the road trip across the country is the natural end, it only makes sense to start by heading east, making Iceland their first stop. She quickly googles the Northern lights and is happy to find that the best chance of seeing them is from September to April. It all depends on the weather, of course, which they can’t exactly do anything about, but at least they’ll be there during the right time. She also finds a company offering two different tours that both end with a night in a see through bubble out in the countryside, perfect for spotting the dancing lights, and bookmarks the site to hopefully be able to book one or both of them in a couple of days when she has a better picture of their plans.

By noon, she has an itinerary that incorporates everything on Bellamy’s list as well as a week in Dublin. She’s given them more time in the places where she knows they’ll want to do a lot of things – like Iceland, to maximize the chances that they’ll catch the Northern lights, Rome, Greece and the Philippines – and less in other places, like just a full day each to see Petra, Taj Mahal and Angkor Wat. At the moment, though, they’ll be back in New York at the end of May.

She goes back over the itinerary, adding a couple of days to a few cities and some new destinations entirely. Edinburgh and Glasgow before they get to London and a detour to Barcelona for a few days after – just because she loves the city and is sure that Bellamy will find La Sagrada Família fascinating – Berlin between Paris and Kraków, a couple of days in Venice, Tokyo and Hong Kong, and finally brief stops in Rio de Janeiro and Panama City. Still, there are more than two weeks left… For a moment, she considers maybe a cruise from Mexico, some paradise islands in the Caribbean, but she’s not sure how Bellamy feels about cruises, especially considering the reason Octavia left was that she started working for a cruise company. In the end, she puts in a week in the Seychelles and another in Bora Bora, which seem like good opportunities to recharge their batteries during the trip.

She briefly thinks about maybe keeping the entire trip to Dublin to herself, along with the Seychelles and Bora Bora, letting them all be surprises. But Bellamy’s going to realize that they’re not going to Edinburgh when they board the plane in Iceland, and that will make him suspicious. It’s probably better to tell him that she wants to show him the city and then surprise him with just Octavia. So instead of writing down an altered itinerary, leaving out those three destinations, she just puts together a list of all the stops with plenty of room in the margin for Bellamy to write down all the things he wants to do in each place. She’s just finished it when her phone dings. When she picks it up, she sees that Octavia has replied to her message and with her heart beating wildly in her chest, she quickly opens Facebook on the computer to see what she says.

_Hi Clarke!  
It’s nice to “meet” you :-) No hard feelings about the “stalking”, if anything, I’m glad – I’ve been wanting to reach out to Bell for a long time, years, really, but considering how I left things, I’ve been afraid to…  
Knowing him, he probably feels the same way. I’m sure he blames himself for what happened back then, even though it was all my fault. I don’t know how much you know, and it’s not my place to tell you if Bell hasn’t, but I know now (and realized pretty quickly) that he was just looking out for me  
So to be honest, your message felt like a way to finally get my brother back. I’m not sure we would have ever gotten to that point on our own, Bell’s too much of a martyr and I’m too stubborn…  
Of course I would love to see you guys! Though I can hardly believe you managed to convince my brother to do something as selfish as travel… When would you be coming? We do have a spare bedroom and I would love it if you stayed here, but if you prefer a hotel, that’s fine, of course. Maybe you can give me a call when you have a chance and we can figure out the details? I’d love to show you both my new home town!  
Octavia_

There’s a phone number at the bottom of the message, a short string of numbers that’s a connection to the other side of the Atlantic, and for a moment, Clarke considers calling right away, instead of just replying to the message. But it’s after one which means that Bellamy should be home soon. Besides, it’s probably better to wait until she has definitive dates and they can make actual plans, so she just saves the number in her phone, hesitating for a moment before putting it under ‘Spencer’, so she’ll remember which contact it is without the risk of Bellamy spotting his sister’s very unusual name in her contact list.

She lingers a little on one part of the message – _I can hardly believe you managed to convince my brother to do something as selfish as travel_. She wonders if Bellamy will tell Octavia the truth, or even just a version of the truth… either way, it’s not her place to tell, so she clicks in the text box and starts writing her response.

_Hi again!  
First of all, thank you so much for getting back to me so quickly, and for not shutting me down. I was a little worried, since Bellamy seems so convinced that you would reach out to him if you wanted to, but I’m glad he was wrong!   
I know he will be so happy to see you… I actually haven’t told him that I know where you are, or that I’ve contacted you, I was thinking I might surprise him with you when we get to Dublin. But you probably know him better, maybe that’s a bad idea?   
At the moment, I don’t have any dates, but around the end of the month or possibly early February. I’m hoping to finalize everything in the next few days, though, so I will give you a call when I have and maybe we can talk about the details? I think Bellamy would love to stay with you, and if he for some reason doesn’t, there’s always last minute hotel bookings!  
I’m putting my phone number below, so you can call me if you need to, and I’ll get in touch as soon as everything’s arranged on my end.  
Clarke_

She double checks that she’s written down everything on the itinerary, shuts down the computer and goes into the bedroom. She has a story time at the library at three, and then a Transfer sort of on the detour home. Bellamy said he’d bring lunch with him so they have time to eat together before she has to leave, but she might as well get ready before he gets home.

She’s just wrapped a hairband around the end of her braid when her phone dings again, and she opens Messenger.

_It breaks my heart to know that he’s been waiting for me to reach out when I’ve been hoping he would, but I’m not really surprised… I really messed up, huh? But thanks to you I can make everything up to him, I hope  
I think a surprise sounds great! I can’t wait to see the look on Bell’s face when he sees me… so yeah, let’s do that :-)  
I don’t have anything planned for the next couple of months, just work, so we’ll be home at least. I have some overtime saved up, so hopefully I can take a few days off while you guys are here  
OK, just get in touch when you know what dates you’ll be coming. And now you have my number and I have yours, maybe it’s better to stick to calls and text messages? I seriously doubt my brother has gotten the hang of social media, but I don’t want him to accidentally uncover our little plot by spotting our conversation  
Octavia_

She’s probably right, better to stick to texts or calls. Clarke’s about to type out a short reply to say as much when she hears the front door open and close, and she quickly shuts down Messenger and makes sure there’s nothing on the home screen giving away that she’s been talking to Octavia.

“Food’s here!” Bellamy calls from the hallway as she stuffs her phone into her pocket, and she leaves the room to meet him in the kitchen.

“And you, bonus,” she notes with a smile, taking the bags from him before standing on her tiptoes to get a kiss. He happily obliges.

“I figured the food was the biggest draw at the moment,” he replies, following her to the couch in the living room.

“Well, I am hungry…”

He just chuckles as they dig into the food.

Clarke only has a few minutes to spare when they’ve finished eating, so she quickly grabs the itinerary from the desk.

“OK, so I have a tentative plan here,” she says, putting the piece of paper down in front of Bellamy on the coffee table. “Leaving on the 20th, getting back on July 17th. I haven’t checked any flights yet, so I left a few extra days at the end, just in case. Why don’t you have a look at it, see if there’s something else you can think of, and put down what you want to do in each place? If you think it looks good, I’ll start looking into flights and hotels and visas and all that stuff tomorrow.”

His brows furrow a little as his eyes trail down the list, and for a moment, she’s worried he doesn’t like it at all, or that he’s changed his mind completely. “You had time to do all this today?” he then asks, and she relaxes.

“Well, yeah… it’s really just organization, figuring out which would be the best route to take… I’ve also talked to Harper, and she and Monty will stay here while we’re gone, that way Bas won’t have to go to Raven and Zeke. I’ve registered my time off, and I’ll talk to Vera at the library after my shift, after that we should be good to go.”

He lets out a breath and puts the paper down on the table again.

“Wow… I mean, I know I agreed to all of this and I did quit my job and everything but now it just… feels more real.”

Clarke can understand that. She moves the paper out of the way and sits down on the table in front of him.

“I know you’re still taking all of this in,” she says gently. “But maybe just… try to focus on the trip? Don’t… don’t think about anything else, just try to enjoy this, OK?”

Bellamy nods slowly.

“I’m sure I’ll have some sort of… break eventually, when it all sinks in, but I’ll try, OK? And I really appreciate you doing all of this, don’t ever think that I don’t.”

“I know,” she assures him quickly, leaning forward to pull him into a tight hug.

“I love you,” he mumbles into her hair after a moment.

“Mmm, love you.”

She really should leave, but she lingers for a little moment longer. Just as she’s about to pull away, she feels his hand slip under the back of her shirt.

“You know… you made me call in sick the other day…”

He lets the words hang in the air as his fingers start inching up her spine.

Reluctantly, Clarke moves back, earning an adorable pout.

“And disappoint the children?” she asks seriously, eyebrows raised.

Bellamy slumps back on the couch in defeat. “No…”

She laughs as she gets up.

“Promise I’ll make it up to you when I get home,” she says as she quickly heads into the hallway, to avoid temptation.

“You better!”

-100-

With her own and Bellamy’s passports in hand and his neat notes on her itinerary, Clarke really gets to work the next day. She checks and double checks visa requirements before applying for the visas and visitor permits that they’ll need for a few of the destinations and is relieved to find that they can indeed get into Jordan, and every other country. Her own passport is new, since her current identity is technically only about nine months old, and Bellamy has only been to Canada, so while she doesn’t get all the confirmations right away, she’s not expecting any problems with visas.

Next, she starts booking flights. She’s left travel days between all destinations, and most seem to work fine, but she does have to amend a couple of dates, booking flights that leave in the evening the day before she had originally planned for them to depart a couple of the destinations, just to avoid getting into a downward spiral that ends up costing them days at the end of the trip. She prints the confirmations as she goes – yes, she knows she can do everything digitally and doesn’t really need to – and starts spreading them on the breakfast bar, in chronological order. It works as a good overview and makes her feel like she’s in control.

When she gets to the end and puts down the flight confirmation for the final leg from Mérida on the Yucatan peninsula to San Francisco on June 22, she lets out a long breath. She still has to book the hotels and look into tickets to sights and stuff, and book the rental car for the road trip part, but step one is complete.

Clarke decides that she deserves some Caramel Chocolate Cheesecake for a job well done, but first – actual food. It’s after two, and she hasn’t eaten since a rushed breakfast of toast before an early Transfer, so she heats up some of the leftovers from yesterday’s dinner and settles down on the couch with her lunch.

When she’s done, she checks the time and deliberates whether to call Octavia or continue with hotel bookings. She did say she would get in touch when she had the flights figured out, and she has to admit that she’s very curious about the other woman… It’s almost eight in the evening in Dublin, so she should be home from work, and Bellamy won’t be back for another hour and a half or so.

The decision made, Clarke opens her contact list and clicks to call ‘Spencer’.

_“Clarke!”_

She’s a little taken aback by the greeting, but quickly pulls herself together. “Octavia, hi.”

_“Hi! It’s so good to hear from you, Lincoln says I’ve been jittery ever since I got your message yesterday and I suspect he’s right.”_

The rapid stream of words give the impression of a whirlwind of a person, which is pretty much what Clarke was expecting, based both on what Bellamy’s told her about his sister and the messages she sent yesterday.

“Well, I’m excited about this trip too, so that makes two of us,” she assures the other woman, who laughs at that. “Anyway, I have just finished booking all our flights, so I have the details of when we’ll be in Dublin.”

_“Great! I should be able to get at least three days off, and I’m sure you guys want some time to explore the city on your own as well.”_

Clarke checks the itinerary in front of her. “Well, we’ll be arriving in the morning on the 28th, and then we’re continuing on to Edinburgh on February 4th, so depending on how you work on the weekends, that should work pretty well.”

She hears the sound of papers being turned and assumes Octavia’s checking her work schedule.

_“OK, I work every other weekend and that one’s mine, unfortunately, but I have a few favors to call in at work so I can switch it around, no problem. How about if I take Monday through Wednesday off, give you a bit of a tour to get you acquainted with the city? Then you’ll be on your own on Thursday and Friday, if there’s something you want to do just the two of you, before we get the weekend together as well? And I don’t have a class until noon on the 4 th, so I should be able to take you to the airport as long as you don’t mind getting there by eleven.”_

The flight leaves at 12:35, so that’ll probably be just perfect. It’ll be a lot of time with Octavia, but Clarke is sure Bellamy will appreciate it. Maybe she can come up with something to do on her own as well, give the siblings some time alone together.

“That sounds absolutely perfect,” she announces.

_“Great! So how do you want to do the whole surprise thing?”_ Octavia asks.

Clarke’s been thinking about that a little. “I figured I’ll tell him that we’re not staying at a hotel but with a friend of mine, which we actually are doing in London, so he should buy it,” she starts. “And then we basically just show up at your place and you open the door.”

_“Simple but effective,”_ Octavia notes. _“And… you’re sure he’ll be happy to see me?”_

The confidence that’s been so obvious in the other woman’s voice since she picked up the phone disappears abruptly, and for a moment, Clarke can imagine her as the thirteen-year-old girl that just lost her mother.

“I am a hundred and ten percent positive that he will be over the moon,” she replies honestly. She knows she’s right, there’s no doubt in her mind whatsoever.

_“OK, good.”_ The relief is evident. _“Now, tell me about yourself!”_

Somehow, they end up talking for over an hour. It’s not until Bastet jumps onto the couch next to her that Clarke realizes that it must be getting close to when Bellamy usually gets home, and she glances at the clock. Sure enough, it’s almost four fifteen.

“Listen, Octavia,” she says when the other woman comes to an end of a story about how Bellamy tried to get her to eat carrots when she was five by telling her that it was what horses ate – she’d been going through an intense horse phase. “I’m going to have to go, your brother will be home any moment and I don’t want to have to lie to him about who I’m talking to.”

_“Oh, OK,”_ Octavia agrees easily. _“So I take it you two are living together?”_

Clarke hesitates. She’s tried to give a more or less accurate version of her and Bellamy’s relationship, without getting into the time frame of it too much – it would probably sound odd to be embarking on a round the world trip with someone you’ve only been dating for a month and a half, after all.

“Well, not officially or anything, he’s still technically living with Miller,” she says, settling for the truth. “But he does spend most of his time at my place, it’s closer to work.”

_“Closer to work, right.”_ Octavia’s tone has changed a little and Clarke wonders if she’ll get the ‘what are your intentions towards my brother?’ talk when they get to Dublin. _“Well, I’ll let you go. I’m sure we’ll touch base before you actually get here, but I’m really looking forward to it. Thanks again for making this happen, Clarke, really.”_

“Of course.” The fact that it was for Bellamy’s benefit originally doesn’t change the fact that Clarke has come to care for his sister as well during the last hour or so, and she’s glad she can bring the two of them together when it’s so clear that they have both been missing each other.

She ends the conversation with just enough time to gather all the flight confirmations together and turn on an episode of _Brooklyn 99_ on Netflix before Bellamy walks through the door.

He calls a greeting before detouring into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. A few minutes later, he slumps down next to her on the couch and Clarke immediately snuggles up to him.

“Long day?” she asks when he leans back and lets out a long sigh.

“Stupid people,” he replies, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.

“Ah. What did they do now?”

“The usual. Some woman booked a delivery at 11.30, but nobody’s home when I get there. I ring the doorbell, try the phone number she left, nothing. I wait for twenty minutes, until I really have to leave to make it to my next delivery, and then leave the standard notice that she can pick up her parcel at the depot tomorrow, or book another delivery at an additional cost. I call it in, so everything’s in the system. Then I get a call an hour later, maybe, that she’s just called and is furious that I didn’t A) wait for her or B) leave the parcel on her porch. Out in the open, close enough to the sidewalk that someone walking by could literally reach over the fence and just take it. If I had and it had gotten stolen, that would have been on me.”

“Aw, poor baby.”

Bellamy chuckles. “How about you, how was your day?”

“So far, so good,” she replies. “I’ve checked the visa requirements and applied for those we need, and all the flights are booked.”

She reaches for the stack of printed confirmations on the coffee table and hands it to him.

“Really? God, you’re efficient!” He flips through them a little, pausing here and there, before putting them back on the table.

It’s Clarke’s turn to laugh. “You do know that you can do all that stuff online these days, right? It’s not like I had to call every single airline or even go down to a travel agent.”

“Really? I had no idea.” He’s quiet for a moment. “What’s ‘online’?”

She pokes him in the ribs, making him squirm. “Shut up!”

To keep her from doing more damage, he grabs her hand. “Seriously though, thanks for taking care of it.”

“Of course.” She gives him a scrutinizing look. “How are you doing with all of that? Better?”

Bellamy nods. “Yeah, I’m trying to do what you said, just focus on the trip. The adventure of a lifetime. Literally. And who knows, this might have been your master plan from the start – maybe you made up the whole ‘oh you’re going to die in six months’ thing to get me to travel the world with you.”

She scoots even closer, burying her face against his neck and breathing him in. “I wish I did.”

“I know.”

They remain like that, _Brooklyn 99_ playing in the background, until Bellamy’s phone dings. She pulls away so he can check it, focusing on the TV even though she hasn’t been following the plot for the last hour or so.

“Hey, it’s almost half past five,” he says after a moment. “Don’t you have a Transfer at six?”

Clarke sighs. “Six fifteen, yeah… it’s only down at Coffey Park, I was planning on walking since the weather is nice, but all my energy just – poof.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead before standing up.

“Come on, I’ll go with you, we’ll take the truck and pick up some food on the way back.”

“Take out again?” she questions with a raised eyebrow. “You giving up on cooking altogether?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Pretty soon we’ll be living off hotel breakfasts and eating out twice a day, so why fight it?”

“Ooh, fancy hotel breakfast! The best part about staying in a hotel.”

He gives her a dubious look. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a little weird?”

Clarke just shrugs. “What’s so great about being normal all the time?”


	23. For a Pocketful of Mumbles Such Are Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know Bellamy a bit more in this chapter, some more background on him, and more travel planning…
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkel

Bellamy has Tuesday off, and asks Clarke over breakfast if she’ll take a road trip with him. She’s a little suspicious, since he won’t tell her where they’re going, but in the end, she agrees. She’s fairly sure he’s not going to bring her to some abandoned industrial lot and bury her in wet concrete at this point.

When they emerge from Holland Tunnel, he glances at her.

“I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic,” he admits. “Going through my mom’s old scrap book, thinking about what I want to do before… anyway, it got me thinking that I’d like to go back. Not home, Paterson hasn’t felt like home for a long time, but I did mostly grow up there. So that’s where we’re going. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you right away, to be honest, it’s not like I was trying to keep it a secret or surprise you or anything.”

She reaches across the console to squeeze his hand.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. And I’d love to see where you grew up.”

The drive doesn’t take too long. There’s barely any traffic, only a couple of areas with road work that slow them down a little. They get off Christopher Columbus Highway a little before noon, and a few minutes later, Bellamy pulls up at the curb on a tree lined street. Most houses have wooden siding, a lot of them reminding her of San Francisco, and look to be old family homes probably split up into smaller apartments at some point. On the other side of the street, there’s a fenced off parking lot and what looks like a church. The house they’re stopped by is white with brown trimmings.

Bellamy’s looking past her at that house, making her assume that must be where he used to live.

“Do you want to get out, look around a little?” she asks. “Maybe an old neighbor still lives here?”

But he shakes his head. “No. The area wasn’t great when we lived here and as far as I’ve heard, it hasn’t gotten any better. Besides, the only neighbor I ever really liked was Mrs. Allen, and she died a couple of years before I moved into the city.”

So they just sit there for a while, until Bellamy clears his throat and starts the engine again.

“OK, next stop.”

He navigates through the back streets easily, still knowing them like the back of his hand, and soon, he pulls into a parking lot by a laundromat.

Clarke stares at the building for a moment. “Not much to do for the teenagers around here?” she finally asks, and he laughs.

“Well, no, but we didn’t hang at the laundromat,” he replies, taking the keys out of the ignition. “My old high school’s across the street.”

“Ah.”

The school is surrounded by a high fence, but even though the spring term hasn’t started yet, the gates are open. Bellamy comes to a stop just at the edge of a large parking area and Clarke stops next to him, sliding her hand into his.

“So this is where you went to high school, huh?” she asks, looking around. There’s not much to see, to be honest, just the standard, brick building you might find at any high school in the US.

“This is it, yeah,” he confirms.

“Bringing back memories?”

He chuckles. “Well, not a lot of great ones, but yeah.”

She already knows that he was, in his own words, a nerd in high school, so she assumes he didn’t have a great time.

“Want to show me around a little?”

He nods and tugs her along towards the building, guiding her around the side of it. When they round a corner to an area that’s more secluded, due to a few buildings hiding it from the street and surrounding houses, they surprise a small group of teenagers who are leaning against the wall of the school, smoking. They hurry away when they spot the intruders, quickly disappearing from view.

“I guess some things never change,” Bellamy notes.

“Is this where you used to hide out and smoke?” she asks.

“Well, not me, but the cool kids, yeah.”

Clarke looks around. “You didn’t have a football field with bleachers to hang out under?” She might not have gone to high school herself, but she has watched a lot of movies and she knows that bleachers are a popular hang-out, especially for football players and cheerleaders looking for a quiet make-out spot.

“Sure, down here,” he replies, pulling her with him along the path until they reach the street. “I don’t know why – maybe it was put in after the school was built and there just wasn’t room for it – but it’s a block over.”

They cross the street and head down a side road until they reach some stairs leading to a fence with a gate that’s already hanging open.

They climb the stairs and enter the track running around the field itself.

“Is this what you had in mind?” Bellamy asks, gesturing at the field ahead of them and the bleachers running along the opposite side.

“Exactly,” she replies with a roll of the eye. “This is living up to the hype from all the high school movies I’ve seen.”

“I figured.”

They follow the track in a semicircle until they reach the other side of the field where he pulls her along behind the bleachers. There’s a chain link fence running behind it, separating the bleachers from a walkway, and he releases her hand before leaning back against it.

“So this is it, the infamous make out spot for all teenager’s graduating from Eastside,” he tells her.

“Oh yeah?” Clarke stops in front of him and grips the chain link on either side of him. “Including you?”

He shrugs. “I did get my first kiss back here sophomore year,” he says. “Roma Bragg, she was a junior. I found out later that she and her friend had some bet going on who could kiss the most guys during the homecoming game, but I still got kissed, so I didn’t really care. It’s not like I was in love with her or anything, so I wasn’t heartbroken when I figured out she wasn’t really into me.”

She can’t help but laugh at that before stepping closer. “Feel like a repeat?”

His mouth twist up into a soft smile and he leans down, meeting her halfway. She lets him set the pace for a moment, just a chaste slide of their lips, before using the fence to pull herself closer to him and deepening the kiss. He hums into her mouth, hands sliding around to slip into the back pockets of her jeans and press her against him.

A dog barking somewhere in the distance reminds her that they are still in a public place, and after a few minutes, she reluctantly pulls away.

“You know I would love to keep this going,” she says with a sigh. “But contrary to what the teenagers at your old school believe, this place isn’t actually very private. Or, you know, at all.”

Bellamy chuckles as he pushes himself away from the fence. “You’re right,” he agrees. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They start heading back slowly, entering the school grounds again once they get there. They take a left, rounding the building on the opposite side to earlier, Bellamy pointing out different spots of importance – where he threw up after getting drunk for the first time during another homecoming game, where his first real girlfriend, Bree, broke up with him because the school quarterback had asked her out, where he and Mel, his second girlfriend, used to sneak off to make out during their free periods, where Miller and his boyfriend at the time, Bryan, got caught making out by the principal and expelled, which led to a huge protest by almost all kids at the school against the blatant discrimination of gay students.

“Where to next?” Clarke asks when they’re back in the car.

“Just one more stop,” he tells her. “But I thought we’d take a bit of a scenic route there, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not, give me the grand tour.”

So he drives, turning here and there, taking her through most of the area where he grew up. They skirt the river for a while before turning down another residential street, passing a baseball field, where a few brave boys are defying the cold and seem to be practicing their batting, and a diner that looks almost like a railway cart. Bellamy shows her Miller’s house, where his parents still live and where he spent Thanksgiving just over a month ago, the gas station where he changed his first tire ten minutes after taking his mom’s car out for the first time after getting his license, and the bus station where he found Octavia when she was running away from home at age eight.

He talks the whole time, telling her about the street they’re on or a building they pass, or one that has been torn down at some point over the years.

Eventually, he turns through a set of gates and into what Clarke quickly realizes is a cemetery. They park by a large building and she hesitates with her hand on the seat belt.

“Do you want me to wait here?” she asks, not wanting to impose if he wants some time alone.

But he shakes his head. “Not unless you want to.”

“OK.”

So she gets out of the car too, taking his hand when he reaches for her, and they start weaving through the tomb stones.

His grip on her hand tightens when he stops in front of one.

“Hey, Mom.” He reaches out to brush some snow off the top of the stone.

Clarke’s not sure if she’s supposed to say hello as well, but Bellamy’s focused on the stone and not her. She reads the text on it.

_Aurora Blake_  
Beloved mother  
1969-2006

“Your dad’s not buried here?” she asks, voice hushed.

“No, Mom said his parents wanted to bury him back home, and she didn’t really have anything to say about it since they weren’t married.”

She wonders how Aurora had felt about that. For some, a grave is a way to stay connected to a loved one they’ve lost. Had she felt robbed of that? Clarke remembers how hard it had been for Raven the first time she moved away from the area where Finn is buried, how she had felt almost like she betrayed him by leaving. On the other hand, a lot of people say they keep their loved ones with them and don’t need a physical place to be able to remember them.

She wonders which type she will be.

Before she can linger on that thought, Bellamy’s voice brings her back to the present.

“Remember the girl I told you about last time, Clarke? I brought her today.”

“When was that?”

He glances at her. “Thanksgiving.”

She can’t help but smile at that. “You told your mom about me the day after our first official date?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I guess I had a… good feeling about you.”

For some reason, his words have her blinking back tears, and she pulls her hand free so she can wrap her arms around him instead, leaning her head against his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her as well, leaning his chin against the top of her head, and starts telling his mom about their upcoming trip.

Clarke listens to his voice, which is so soothing she knows she would fall asleep if she wasn’t standing up, as he talks about the places they’re going and everything he hopes to see and do.

If she’s ever doubted that she did the right thing by telling him everything and convincing him to let her do this for him, they definitely disappear now.

-100-

Clarke keeps herself busy over the next few days, finalizing the travel plans – booking hotels, buying tickets to different sights, googling cities and areas that she doesn’t know well to find others, looking up tours and experiences. She books a rental car that they’ll pick up at the airport in San Francisco, and after some thinking, decides to get a rental in Edinburgh as well. Originally, she had planned on them taking the train from Edinburgh to Glasgow and then on to London, but this way they can see some of the countryside as well. Once they’re in London, they can use Wells’ car, she knows Bellamy wants to check out Stonehenge and Bath, and there’s this little fishing village on the Devon coast that she and Wells used to visit when they lived in London that she would just love to show Bellamy… stone and white-washed cottages lining winding streets and colorful fishing boats balancing on their hull down in the harbor at low tide.

She emails all the information Bellamy has about his dad to Anya, a Keeper she sort of knows through Emori and who’s in Manila at the moment, and she promises to look into it and see what she can find.

Raven comes over on Saturday to help her go through the final itinerary and make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything obvious. She lets out a whistle when she puts the now (hopefully) complete itinerary down.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh?”

Clarke gives her a look. “It _is_ sort of the trip of a lifetime, you know.”

Raven winces. “Of course, sorry. How are you doing with all of that, by the way? We haven’t really had a chance to talk since you told Bellamy everything.”

“I don’t know,” Clarke admits. “I’ve been staying busy with all the travel planning, trying to avoid thinking about… everything else too much, to be honest.”

She’s taken the advice she gave Bellamy and focused on their upcoming trip, fighting hard to not let her mind wander to what she knows is coming eventually.

“I don’t know if that’s so smart,” Raven notes. “If you just push all the feelings in front of you, they’ll end up hitting you all at once at some point.”

Clarke sighs. “Well, hopefully I can keep pushing them away until after… you know. I’m pretty sure some extra emotional stress won’t matter at that point.”

“Right, that was probably a stupid thing to say.”

She reaches out to squeeze Raven’s hand. “I know you’re just looking out for me.”

“I am. But maybe I should have done that back in November…”

Clarke knows what she means, and part of her can agree, to a certain extent.

If she had never seen Bellamy again after their run-in at Central Park, she’s pretty sure she would have been fine. She might have wondered about him from time to time, imagined what could have happened if they’d had a chance, but that would have been all. But, really, the moment he showed up at Raven’s Halloween party, that had been it. She had denied it at the time, even to herself, but by the end of the night, she was already more than half in love with him. The shock of seeing his Number shook her enough that she thought she could ignore those feelings, but now, she’s certain that if he hadn’t showed up at the library when he did, she would have taken Raven’s advice and contacted him within days. She had already been so close to breaking, she just hadn’t wanted to see it.

“Don’t say that. I’m glad I’ve had these last few weeks with him, and I know the next six months are going to be the most amazing of my life.” She pauses before continuing. “So in the end, even though I know that I will be heartbroken and probably in more pain than I can even imagine right now, I think you were right. It will be worth it.”

Raven gives her a long, scrutinizing look. “I hope so. But promise me you won’t shut me out?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Well, this looks great, I don’t think there’s anything you’ve missed, really.” She taps a finger against the paper on the table. “I assume you’ve asked him about a bucket list? He doesn’t want to go skydiving or mountain climbing or something else crazy like that?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No, I did ask. He said he’s never been much of an adrenaline junkie, so he isn’t interested in any of that. He was going to think about it, though, so I’ll probably check in at some point, see if he’s come up with anything.”

“OK. Then I think you’re all set. Honestly, it sounds absolutely amazing. I don’t suppose you want another travel companion or two?”

“I’m going to have to say a big no to that,” she says with a laugh. “And honestly, I don’t think you _want_ to go with us. I’m planning on joining the mile high club and having sex in…” she runs down the list of destinations quickly, “… twenty-four countries. Maybe more, if we can swing the Vatican or an airport during a layover.”

“OK, yeah, I don’t want to be there for that,” Raven agrees. “But good for you! Though you might want to look into the laws in the Vatican, it might be a deadly sin to have sex there. Or at least a punishable offense.”

“Only if you get caught… Feel free to steal the itinerary if you want, though. Or just some of the hotels, I guess, it’s not like you have to do a six month trip, you can just do one or a couple of places at a time. You guys haven’t had a proper holiday in a while.”

“I might just do that… I mean, the place on Bora Bora? That’s my idea of heaven right there.”

Clarke has to agree. “I know. I booked a suite in one of the overwater bungalows, they’re supposed to be pretty private. I’m thinking skinny dipping after dark…”

“Careful, though,” Raven says. “Ocean sex has a tendency to lead to sand everywhere. And I mean _everywhere_.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“And the Seychelles, is that a private island?” Raven asks, flicking through the papers until she finds the confirmation for the hotel with some pictures.

“No, there are ten villas on the island, so not completely private.”

“And Bellamy’s really OK with all of this, you paying I mean? You said you weren’t even sure he’d agree to the trip, this seems like… a lot.”

Clarke shrugs. “He did make it a condition that we fly economy – which we will – and don’t stay in too flashy hotels, but I managed to get him to agree to a couple of those.”

“I’d say… does he have any idea how much all of this costs?”

To be honest, _Clarke_ doesn’t even know the exact number herself… but she does know that there’s still more money than she can ever spend in her accounts, so it really doesn’t matter.

“God no, he would have a fit.”

“So where else did you splurge?” Raven asks curiously.

“Paris and Vegas,” Clarke tells her. “Shangri-La in Paris, remember the amazing view of the Eiffel tower you had from there? And, of course, Caesar’s Palace in Vegas. They actually have rooms and suites called Augustus, I just couldn’t pass on that.”

“Why?”

“Bellamy’s sister is called Octavia. His mom let him name her, and he was in an Ancient Rome phase at the time, obsessed with Emperor Augustus.”

Raven chuckles. “OK, that’s actually kind of adorable.”

“Right?”

Bellamy knows that they’re staying at Caesar’s Palace – he actually laughed when she told him – but the only thing she’s said about the room is that it overlooks The Strip and the fountains at The Bellagio, which he seems excited about.

-100-

Clarke manages to hold it together and focus on the practical details of the trip until two days before their departure.

They’ve both been completely free the last three days and have spent them mostly lounging around the apartment, but a while ago, Clarke panicked a little when she realized that she hasn’t even started planning what to pack. Bellamy laughed it off, but now they’re sitting on the couch, trying to make a list of what they’ll need to bring. Six months is a long time to be traveling, no matter where you go, and add to that the fact that they’ll be going from Iceland, which is bound to have temperatures below freezing, to Las Vegas in July. Major temperature differences, to say the least, so they have to pack for every type of weather, pretty much.

“I’m really considering just packing the basics and buying whatever we need along the way,” she says, letting out a sigh. “Or sending stuff ahead somewhere, I mean, we have all the hotels booked, we could do that. Do a switch once we get to warmer climates.”

Bellamy chuckles. “You just have to be practical. Everything you need in warmer places, you can use in the colder places too.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Somehow, I doubt I’ll get much use out of my favorite mini summer dress with spaghetti straps in Reykjavik.”

“And here I was hoping you wouldn’t wear anything but,” he replies with a smirk.

“Oh, so you _want_ me to freeze my ass off?”

“I would never let you freeze your ass off, Princess,” he promises solemnly. “I would keep it warm, you have my word.”

Clarke can’t help but laugh at that. “That’s very generous of you, but not going to happen. I plan on wearing thermal underwear, a thick sweater and some sort of winter jacket the whole time we’re in Iceland.”

“Really?” He gives her a pointed look. “The _whole_ time?”

She punches him in the arm. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. And it’s probably easier for me – throw in a couple of pairs of jeans and shorts, a bunch of t-shirts, some sweaters and shoes and I’m all set.”

“Don’t forget swimming trunks,” she reminds him. “I mean, I’m all for skinny dipping, but everyone might not agree. And socks and underwear.”

“Those sort of go without saying.”

She focuses on the list in front of them for a while – jeans, shorts, tops, sweaters, bikinis, underwear, socks, winter boots, sneakers. She adds dresses and sandals, since they’ll probably be going out to dinner somewhere nice at some point.

“You should probably pack at least one nice shirt and some slacks,” she tells Bellamy. “And a pair of dress shoes. Just in case.”

“In case we’re forced at gunpoint to attend a banquet or something?”

“No, just…” She looks up at him to find a smirk on his face and realizes he’s just messing with her. “You could help me instead, you know.”

“OK, give me the list.”

Clarke hands it to him suspiciously and he looks it over before adding something at the bottom and giving it back.

“Blue lace Victoria’s Secret set… seriously?” He just shrugs at her questioning look. “I’m not bringing fancy lingerie.”

“Why not? It’s not like it takes up a lot of space.”

Well, he has a point. “Nope. Practicality over aesthetic appeal.”

“I guess I do prefer you _without_ lingerie, anyway,” he muses. “But the process of getting you out of it can be fun.”

She snorts. “Fine, I might pick up something for a special occasion.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyes light up. “Like my birthday?”

“Sure.” She frowns. “When _is_ your birthday? And why don’t I know that already?”

“I guess it’s never come up. It’s March fourteenth. I don’t know your birthday either.” He hesitates for a moment. “Do you _have_ one? I mean, as far as you know, you weren’t actually born and even if you were, you don’t know when.”

She can understand the confusion. “We usually say the day we become Soul Keepers are our birthdays,” she explains. “So mine would be June sixth.”

Bellamy grabs the basic itinerary with just their different stops from a folder on the table where Clarke has gathered everything relating to the trip. Yes, she can be a little over organized.

“We’ll be in Rome on my birthday – nice – and in Bora Bora on yours.”

“Then I know what we’ll be doing on mine – hammock under swaying palm trees overlooking the crystal clear water.” She can almost see it. “Ice cold drinks, exotic fruit for lunch, room service for dinner, skinny dip after dark…”

“Nice. Do we have anything booked on mine?”

She grabs the notepad where she has the more detailed itinerary written down, with all the sights they have already bought tickets for, the tours they’ve booked and a couple of shows.

“Nope, nothing. We’ll just get in from Venice the night before, I thought we could both use a day to just chill and settle in. Everything we have booked in Rome is on Friday through Monday, and then we have two more days of nothing before we continue onto Pompeii. So whatever you want to do on your birthday.”

“Maybe just a day on the town?” he suggests. “There are remnants of the Roman empire all over the city, ruins here and there, lots of places you don’t have to buy tickets to or that even charge an entry fee.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Clarke agrees.

“And if we were to find a lingerie store, well…” he trails off, and she laughs.

“I promise I will pick up something very special for your birthday, OK?”

He pulls her in for a quick kiss. “It’ll be the best birthday ever. And not just because I’ll actually be in Rome.”

“Good.”

She goes back to her packing list and adds a few more items before she decides that she’s done.

“I think the main problem is going to be the winter jacket,” she announces, slumping back on the couch.

Bellamy frowns. “I figured we’d just wear those on the plane? I mean, it’s probably colder in Iceland, but it’s not like it’s spring here or anything. Plus, you can roll it up and use it as a pillow.”

“Well, yeah,” she agrees. “But by March, we won’t need them anymore. You know what, I’ll just bring an old jacket I don’t use anymore and dump it once we get somewhere warmer.”

“Good plan.”

“Do you have an old jacket you wouldn’t mind losing along the way?” she asks. He doesn’t answer for a while, and eventually she looks up at him to find him giving her an incredulous look. “What?”

“I don’t really think it matters, it’s not like I’ll need it next winter anyway,” he finally says.

And it just hits her. Out of the blue.

He really won’t be here next winter. Or even next fall. He’ll be gone.

Clarke can tell that she’s starting to hyperventilate, can feel her hands shaking and her eyes tearing up, her vision going blurry.

“What’s wrong?”

Bellamy’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, through the rushing sound that’s filling her ears. She just shakes her head, unable to get anything out.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhh.”

His arms are suddenly around her and then he’s pulling her into his lap. One warm hand starts rubbing soothing motions up and down her back, the other cupping her head and pulling her to him. She buries her face against his chest, letting the tears that have started streaming down her cheeks soak his shirt.

Clarke doesn’t know how long they sit like that. He doesn’t try to ask her what’s wrong again, maybe because he understands, just keeps rubbing her back and making soothing noises in her hair.

Eventually, the tears dry up. She can barely breathe because her nose is so stuffy, but she drags in air through her mouth before lifting her head from Bellamy’s chest. She tries to move out of his lap, but he holds her still.

“Feel better?”

She’s not really sure, but she nods anyway.

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes, wiping at the tear tracks on her cheeks. “Raven did warn me that just pushing everything away would come back to bite me in the ass eventually. I was kind of hoping it wouldn’t be for a while.”

He reaches out to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Don’t apologize. Raven was right, it was probably just a matter of time. I’m sure I’ll have a breakdown at some point too.”

“And then I’ll be there.”

His mouth turns up a little at the corner. “I know you will.”

Clarke takes another deep breath and leans her forehead against his. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“I just… it sort of feels like this is all my fault.”

He pulls away to be able to look at her. “What? That’s crazy, how could any of this be your fault? You’re not the one who decides when people die.”

“No, I know, but… if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.”

To her complete surprise, Bellamy actually laughs at that.

“Are you serious?” he asks incredulously. “I mean, OK, I wouldn’t have to think about everything I want to do before I die, but that would just be because I’d have no idea it was coming. Do you really think that would be better?”

She honestly doesn’t know.

“And I also wouldn’t get _this_ ,” he continues when she doesn’t answer. “I wouldn’t get you, I wouldn’t get to see the world with you, go to places I’ve only ever dreamed of… so never, ever think that I would rather not know, OK?”

Clarke nods. “OK.”

“OK. Good.” He lets out a sigh. “And just… I don’t know what’s coming. Yes, I’m bound to break eventually. Maybe I’ll be angry, I have no idea. That’s a step on the road to acceptance, right, anger? But not at you, never at you. So just know, no matter what happens, that I am so beyond grateful that you’re giving me this opportunity. Even if I might not be good at showing it all the time.”

She finally feels the niggling doubt ease up a little.

“Now, come on,” he says, nudging her until she gets up. “How about if I help you pack now, you go with me back to Miller’s place and help me pack tomorrow morning?”

She gives him a look through narrowed eyes. “Are you going to try to sneak unnecessary lingerie into my bag?”

Bellamy just shrugs innocently. “I make no promises.”


	24. I Don’t Care, Go on and Tear Me Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to head out on a round-the-world-trip with our favorite couple! First stop – Iceland! A sort of general note going into this part of the fic – I have visited some of the cities and sights B & C will be traveling to, but far from all of them (I was actually in Iceland in January this year, so it was fun to go through this chapter again after I’ve actually been to some of the places! We didn’t catch the Northern Lights, unfortunately) I’ve used what I know myself when I can, but I have also relied heavily on Google Maps, TripAdvisor and unofficial or official sites (where those exist) for different tourist attractions and cities, to be able to describe these places. I cannot make any promises that I haven’t gotten something wrong, but I have tried my very best, so I hope you will enjoy going with me on this journey – I definitely enjoyed writing it!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Title from “A Sky Full of Stars” by Coldplay
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Raven drives them to the airport, insisting on parking and going with them into the departure hall. She waits as they drop off their bags and then pulls Clarke into a tight hug.

“You have fun, OK? Don’t think about anything else, just enjoy this time. And call me if you need me. Anytime, I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, OK?”

Clarke hugs her back. “Will do, on all accounts. Love you, Rae.”

“Love you too, babe.” Raven pulls away and turns to Bellamy. “And you.”

His eyes widen slightly at her words, but then she’s throwing her arms around him as well. It takes him a moment, but he hugs her back.

Clarke can’t hear what Raven’s saying, but when Bellamy pulls away, he’s laughing and nodding.

“You’ve got it,” he promises Raven, who leaves with a wave of the hand.

“What did she want you to do?” Clarke asks curiously as they make their way to security.

“She said you suck at taking pictures, so I’m in charge of the camera she gave you.”

She rolls her eyes but does have to admit that Raven is right. Well, sort of – she loves taking a lot of photos of the places she visits, but Raven always complains that she wants to see her _and_ the beautiful sunset or amazing waterfall or dramatic mountain range.

“Fine by me. There are way too many buttons and knobs on that fancy camera anyway.”

Zeke gave Raven a new camera a couple of months ago, and she insisted that Clarke take her old one, at least for this trip, so she wouldn’t have to depend on the camera on her phone.

“I’m no expert, but I’m sure we can figure it out,” Bellamy says. “So I take it Raven wants a lot of photos?”

“A lot of photos of _us_ ,” Clarke corrects him. “I take a ton of photos when I travel, I just somehow manage to take a hundred pictures of beaches and cool buildings and statues and… stuff, and maybe one where I’m actually in the frame.”

“Ah. So my job is to make sure you make it into the pictures.”

“And you. But she’s right.” She does realize what Raven is doing – making her take a lot of pictures of herself and Bellamy so she’ll be able to look at them and remember this trip, the wonderful time she had with him, years down the line. “OK, how about this – we take turns taking photos so one of us is always in them, and then we make sure to get at least one of both of us in every place we go.”

They both have their carry-ons slung over their shoulders, but he still manages to wrap an arm around her. “That sounds like a great plan.”

While Clarke has followed Bellamy’s instructions to book economy seats for all their flights, she has paid extra when needed to be able to pick a seat before checking in, so they almost always have seats in the first row or by the emergency exits, meaning they have more leg room. She’s also used a little trick she’s learned and booked the aisle and window seats, leaving one seat in the middle. If a flight’s not full, odds are the middle seat will be left empty, and if it’s not, they can always just ask the person sitting there if they would mind switching since they were split up during check-in.

This particular flight is apparently not full, because when the plane starts taxing out and the flight attendant launches into the safety run-through, the seat between her and Bellamy is still empty. As soon as the fasten your seatbelts sign is turned off, she pushes the two armrests between them up so she can move to the middle seat and curls up against him when he lifts an arm to let her scoot closer.

“Lucky nobody had this seat,” he notes, shifting a little in the seat to get more comfortable. “Hopefully we’ll get seats next to each other on most flights.”

“Oh, I picked these seats when I booked,” Clarke tells him. “Unless a flight’s full, single middle seats are usually left unoccupied, so we get the whole row to ourselves. A little trick I’ve picked up.”

“Well, that just goes to show who’s done more traveling of the two of us,” he replies with a chuckle. “And what do we do when the flight’s full? I mean, it’s bound to happen at some point, how many flights are we taking on this trip?”

She sighs. “I have honestly lost count. But that’s easy – just say that we were split up when we checked in, and would they mind terribly to switch with one of us so we can sit together? Nobody wants the middle seat, so people usually don’t mind, but if need be, I can do a little lip tremble and teary eyes.”

“I didn’t know I was dating some sort of mastermind.”

“Yeah, I’m a regular Moriarty,” she agrees drily.

“Moriarty from _Sherlock_ or _Elementary_?” Bellamy asks, seemingly completely serious. “I mean, if I get to pick, I’d definitely go with Natalie Dormer, but… ow!”

He tries to get away from her elbow, but really, there’s not _that_ much room.

“Another pro tip – don’t get on your girlfriend’s bad side ten minutes into a five hour flight,” she tells him with an innocent smile.

“Duly noted.” He rubs his ribs a little. “Want to watch a movie?”

They settle in under one of the thin blankets, watching some comedy on the same screen. After half an hour or so, they’re served a standard plane meal, and when the trays and trash have been collected, the lights are dimmed so those who want to can sleep.

It’s only a little after nine, New York time, but Clarke always has trouble sleeping the night before she travels – it doesn’t matter if she has to be at the airport at the crack of dawn or not until late afternoon, like today. So she’s pretty tired, and they’re landing at six in the morning, local time, so a few hours of sleep wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“You want to try to get some sleep?” she asks when the end titles roll across the little screen.

Bellamy sighs. “Probably should, I guess. I mean, we’re landing at six and don’t want to sleep the whole day away, right?”

“No, it’s usually best to try to get into the new time zone right away. Or we could watch another movie,” she adds, glancing around the cabin. “Or… lots of people are sleeping, you know. There are… other things we could do.”

He’s quiet for so long that she has to look up at him to try to figure out what he’s thinking. His brows are furrowed but when he meets her eyes, they shoot up. “You’re serious?”

Clarke shrugs, keeping her voice low. “You’ve never wanted to join the mile high club?”

“I haven’t thought about it, honestly,” he replies, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I always figured, you know – cramped airplane bathroom, people banging on the door, everyone knowing what you’re doing… not exactly sexy.”

“I guess,” she agrees. “Maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I was sort of hoping to join at some point during this trip, though.”

“You’re not already a member?”

He sounds so surprised that she has to elbow him again, but since they’re so close, he barely notices.

“No! What did you think, that I go around hooking up with random people on planes?”

“Of course not,” he quickly assures her. “Just… you’ve obviously been traveling a lot, and for years, I figured you must have been on a plane with someone you’d want to… you know.”

It’s kind of adorable how he can’t say the words out loud just because a flight attendant passes their row at that moment.

“Well, I haven’t,” she tells him. “But I am now.”

“Can I think about it?” he asks. “We have more overnight flights, right?”

“We do, but not for a while, Europe’s mostly short flights or drives or train rides.”

Bellamy presses a kiss to her temple before whispering in her ear. “Good, then I’ll have some time to work up the courage to not care that a whole plane knows I’m fucking my girlfriend in the bathroom.”

His words send a shiver through her, and she has half a mind to just drag him off right now, but… no. They have time. For this, at least, they have time.

So she just snuggles closer, letting her eyes slide shut, and tries to focus on the way his chest rises and falls with his breaths.

Clarke really wasn’t expecting to fall asleep, but what feels like five minutes later, she’s being gently shaken awake. When she opens her eyes, the cabin is much too bright and she finds Bellamy blinking at the harsh light.

“Hey,” he murmurs with a smile when he sees that she’s awake.

“Hey,” she repeats. “I fell asleep.”

He chuckles. “We both did, I just woke up myself when we touched down, but you managed to sleep through that.”

She becomes aware of people moving down the aisle and realizes that they’re already disembarking. But they’re not in any hurry, so they remain seated until the plane has mostly emptied out.

It’s still dark when they leave the airport, the sun won’t rise for hours yet, but it’s not as cold as she had been expecting. In fact, she’s pretty sure it was colder in New York.

“Come on,” Bellamy says, hand closing around hers. “Taxis are this way.”

She tries to get her first impression of Iceland as the taxi drives them towards Reykjavik, but there’s really not much to see at this time of night. The sky is overcast, so no chance of spotting the Northern lights today, at least. She’s kept an eye on the forecast, and at the moment, it looks like it should clear up in a few days, so hopefully they’ll get a chance to see it before they leave on Monday.

So instead, she leans her head against Bellamy’s shoulder and dozes until they come to a stop in front of the hotel.

The concierge must be used to half-asleep people arriving early in the morning, because she has them checked in and in the elevator within a few minutes. When they finally get to their room, Clarke just kicks off her shoes and gets undressed, dropping everything on the floor before she crawls under the thick, fluffy comforter on the bed.

She feels the bed shift as Bellamy sits down behind her and moves into the middle of the bed so he’ll have enough room. A moment later, his warm body is pressed against her back and his hand slides around her waist, but that’s the last thing her mind registers before she’s pulled under once more.

-100-

The next time she opens her eyes, dull, grey light is streaming in through the curtains neither of them closed before falling asleep, and something is beeping behind her.

After a few disoriented moments, her muddled brain finally realizes that it must be the alarm on Bellamy’s phone, and she’s just about to reluctantly detangle herself from the warm comforter to be able to turn it off when she feels him shift behind her. The sound stops.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, as he buries his face in her hair.

“Morning,” she replies, letting the warmth seep through her skin and into her bones. Her mind is starting to shake the tendrils of sleep off, though, and she kind of wants to get out and explore this new city. Despite having traveled a lot, especially over the last thirty years or so, she’s never been to Iceland before.

Plus, she’s hungry, which her growling stomach soon makes Bellamy aware of too, and he chuckles behind her, rolling onto his back and stretching.

“Exploring and maybe some lunch?” he suggests.

“Sounds good,” Clarke agrees.

The bed dips a little under her when he sits up on the edge, and she rolls over onto her side to enjoy the view.

“Let me just grab a shower,” he says. “Wake up all the way.”

She slides her hand up his back and then drags her nails lightly along his spine, smiling when he shivers in response. “I could join you…”

Bellamy turns around to grab her hand and leans down, pinning it to the bed by her head. “We both know we wouldn’t get out of this hotel room for at least an hour if you do that.” He brushes his lips just lightly against hers before getting up and disappearing through the door that must lead to the bathroom.

Clarke huffs, a little disappointed, but takes the opportunity to inspect the hotel room – she was so intent on the bed when they arrived a few hours ago that she didn’t take in much else.

The room’s not huge, but very modern and clean. A king size bed, a desk, a flat screen TV, and large windows on two walls, overlooking a futuristic glass building across the street as well as the water and mountains beyond.

Her bag is still where she dropped it earlier, just inside the door in the little hallway, and she brings it over to the bed to be able to grab a change of clothes. She also finds her hairbrush and a hairband, and quickly pulls her hair into a messy bun. When Bellamy leaves the bathroom, she resists the urge to pull his towel away and convince him to stay in the room for just a little while longer and instead hops in the shower herself.

They grab some lunch at the hotel’s restaurant and then spend the next few hours, until the sun sets, exploring the city. Clarke has looked up the main sights in the downtown area and after a few wrong turns, they make it to the main commercial street. It’s lined with two and three storey buildings, most of them in stone or wood, home to little shops and bars and restaurants. Since it’s early afternoon on a Monday, there aren’t that many people out and about, but they do encounter other tourists doing sightseeing of their own and a few locals hurrying by, probably on their way back to work after lunch.

They wander up and down the narrow, snow covered streets, eventually ending up at a square with a statue of what looks like a Viking and an oddly shaped building that she quickly identifies as Iceland’s largest church, Hallgrímskirkja. They pause next to the statue, which Bellamy studies for a moment.

“Leif Erikson,” he notes, sounding the name out carefully. “The first known European to discover North American, contrary to popular belief.”

Before he can get started on Columbus and everything horrible he did, Clarke pulls his attention to the church instead.

“It’s definitely impressive,” she notes, looking up at the grey façade.

“What is it?” he asks next to her.

“A church. Come on, let’s go inside. The tower has a viewing platform with amazing panoramic views of the city.”

The interior is almost austere – high, clear windows stretching towards a domed, white ceiling, grey stone floor, and simple pews. Even the organ is almost plain, all wood and steel, none of the gilding or intricate details Clarke’s used to seeing on similar instruments in other churches.

They take the elevator up to the tower, where Reykjavik stretches in all directions under them. On a clear day, you can probably see for miles, but at the moment, it feels like they could reach up and touch the low-hanging clouds.

By the time they leave the church, after getting some photos together at the top of the tower with the city sprawled out under them, big, fat snowflakes have started gently floating towards the ground. The sun is starting to set as well, and they slowly make their way back through the city center, stopping to buy some gloves in a store that sells local knitwear, since they realize that they have somehow managed to both overlook packing some.

When they reach the hotel again, it’s almost dark and Clarke realizes that they’re going to have to save the rest of the sightseeing for another day. She knows Bellamy wants to check out the Alþingi (Clarke has learned that the funny Icelandic letter þ is pronounced ‘th’, which makes the name much easier to say) Iceland’s parliament which is the oldest in the world, and there are a couple of other things on her list as well. The only days that are fully booked, though, are Thursday and Saturday, when they have two day tours ending with a night in the bubble hotel she found early on during her planning and hopefully Northern lights – since the tours were so different, she couldn’t pick one and ended up booking both. Apart from that, they have a Northern lights bus tour booked tomorrow night, with the option of going out again the night after, if they don’t see anything, and then a boat tour with whale safari on Wednesday.

So they have three full days to continue exploring the city and, for now… well, there are lots of fun things to do in their hotel room for the rest of the evening.

-100-

They spend the daylight hours on Tuesday exploring some more, before returning to the hotel to prepare for the Northern lights tour. Unfortunately, though, it ends up being canceled because it’s just too cloudy. It’s a bit of a disappointment but, like the tour operator explains, there’s no point in going out when there’s no chance at all to spot the lights. Tomorrow night is supposed to be clearer, so they’re rebooked for that tour.

The whale safari on Wednesday is a lot of fun, though, and despite the cold weather – it stops snowing just as they board the boat but the temperature remains below freezing – they get to see humpbacks, dolphins and even a couple of orcas. The Northern lights tour goes ahead later in the evening as well. The skies are clear, and they get a glimpse of the lights at one spot, but only for a minute or so. It’s impressive, no doubt about it, but not what either of them had been hoping for – lights in a multitude of colors dancing across the skies above.

“The forecast is better for tomorrow,” their guide, Jón, tells Clarke as they get off the bus back at the hotel. “Do you want to come on that tour too? Today was not so good, we will include it in the price.”

“Actually, we have another tour booked tomorrow,” she tells him with a smile. She waits a little, until Bellamy has gotten off the bus and is out of earshot – he doesn’t know the details about the tour they’re going on, she’s just told him that they’ll be gone over night – before she continues, lowering her voice a little. “We’re going on a day tour to a couple of places and then spending the night in a see through bubble somewhere out in the countryside. They’re supposed to be great for catching the Northern lights.”

Jón lights up at the mention of the bubble hotel. “Oh, yes, I have heard of that. I do not know where they are, exactly, they are very secret, but you should be able to see the lights very well from there. If you do not see them, you can call us and come with us on Friday night.”

She thanks him before leaving the bus and joining Bellamy on the sidewalk, brushing off his question by saying she just wanted tips from an insider on what to do in the city.

They’re picked up at the hotel at noon the next day and quickly leave the city behind. The entire group is only eighteen people, max capacity for the bubble hotel, but they’re divided in three groups. The people in their car is another American couple in their sixties and, to Clarke’s delight, a Swedish couple around thirty. Since Bellamy’s attention is on the landscape they pass, she takes the opportunity to freshen up her Swedish and get to know them a little better.

The first stop is in the national park called Þingvellir, which is famous as the site where the Icelandic parliament was founded back in the year 930, and also as a place where two tectonic plates meet. They get forty-five minutes on their own, and they wander around a little before returning to the car and enjoying the sun for a bit, which has finally come out as the cloudy sky is starting to clear.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re sleeping tonight?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke sighs. She had been hoping to keep it a secret until they actually get there, but the Swedish couple have already mentioned it, and even though Bellamy obviously didn’t understand that, it’s only a matter of time before someone else brings it up.

So she pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket and opens the photos she has saved from the website.

“Here,” she says, handing him the phone to let him scroll through the pictures.

His eyes widen as he takes them in. “Seriously? This is so cool.”

“I know, right? And the forecast for Northern lights is supposed to be better today, so I’m really hoping we get to see them at the hotel, it would be amazing.”

Bellamy nods thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look particularly… private, though.”

She laughs. “The bubbles are some ways apart, so you can’t see the others.” She gives him a smirk. “Why, what were you thinking about?”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t thinking about _that_ , but now I am.”

“Good.” Clarke moves closer to be able to hook her arm through his and lean her head on his shoulder. “I mean, it’s really a once in a lifetime opportunity – well, twice, since we’re staying in another one of these on Saturday – and I for one want to take full advantage of it.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for public sex,” he notes in an amused voice.

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far,” she replies. “I mean, I don’t _want_ people watching or anything… but the idea that someone might hear or see is a little… exciting? I don’t know if that’s the right word.”

Bellamy chuckles at that. “Don’t worry, I think I know what you mean.”

They’re rounded up by the tour guide then and get back in the car for the second stop along the way, which is an area with hot springs and geysers.

It’s definitely an amazing show, but Clarke, who has seen the geysers in Yellowstone, has to admit that it’s not as impressive as she had thought. Bellamy is fascinated, though.

Next up is a beautiful waterfall, Gullfoss, with rushing water and large pieces of ice dropping over the edges here and there. There’s a low fence of sorts, stopping them from getting too close to the edge, and since the ground is covered in snow and a little slippery, Clarke is actually glad for this.

They amble along the edge of the falls, Bellamy insisting on taking pictures with her in them every few minutes. The Swedish couple offer to take one of them together, and he happily hands over the camera so they can pose in front of the water.

The fourth and final stop – and the one Clarke has been looking forward to the most, apart from the bubble hotel – is a hot spring where they get to swim. The short walk from the changing rooms to the pool is freezing, but once they’re in the water, it’s definitely worth it.

“This feels so wrong,” Bellamy notes as they settle in against one edge, both of them sinking down so only their heads are visible above water. “There’s, like, three feet of snow but the water has to be a hundred degrees or something.”

“I know,” she replies. “It plays tricks on your mind, doesn’t it?”

He hums in agreement before sneaking an arm around her waist under the water and pulling her against him.

“Too bad there’s so much people here,” he murmurs in her ear and she feels a shiver run through her.

“Good thing the hotel’s up next then.”

They do make one more stop, at a restaurant for dinner. They’re joined at their table by the Swedish couple and two Norwegian girls in their mid-twenties, and Clarke has fun, talking to them and getting tips on what to do before they leave Iceland. But as soon as Bellamy finishes his food, she feels his hand on her thigh, and it remains there as they talk for another hour or so, now and then sliding along her jeans. Needless to say, it’s a little distracting and all she really wants is to get out of there.

After a short gathering in the kitchen at the bubble hotel, during which they’re briefed on how everything works, they’re finally shown to their bubbles, a short walk from the house with the toilets – Clarke really hopes she won’t need them once they’re in bed – and given a flashlight.

The sun set before they reached the restaurant, so it’s pitch black outside now, the only light coming from the stars above – the moon hasn’t risen yet – and a faint glow coming from the bubbles that are closest to them.

It’s surprisingly warm, once the door closes after their guide, which she’s very grateful for.

“I’m really not sure about the privacy in these things,” Bellamy notes, dropping his thick jacket against the rounded wall, followed by his knit hat and gloves. “It feels like everyone in a two mile radius can just see right in.”

She laughs at that and follows suit, taking off her jacket, hat and gloves before unlacing her winter boots. “I mean, there are trees all around, but we need to turn the lights off, nobody will be able to see a thing then.”

“Including us,” he replies, taking a seat on the bed. “This is comfy.”

She sits down next to him and starts unbuttoning her cardigan. “I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking it might be a good idea to remove as many layers as possible before we turn the lights off.”

He nods at that, pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it at the growing pile of clothes. “Good idea.”

Once they’re both down to their long johns and long sleeved t-shirts, Clarke removes the bedspread and pulls the comforter down. “Here, I’ll turn the flashlight on if you turn the lamp off,” she offers, grabbing the flashlight off the small table with the lamp.

Bellamy waits until she has turned it on before he switches off the light, and immediately, the bubble feels more private.

“That’s better,” he notes, pulling his shirt and long johns off before getting into the bed.

She hands over the flashlight so she can get rid of the rest of her clothes as well, and when she’s down to her panties and bra, she slips between the sheets. Once she’s covered, she quickly takes off her bra as well, as he turns off the flashlight, plunging them into almost total darkness.

“Wow, look at the stars.”

She turns her eyes to the sky at his words, and it really is amazing. She realizes that she’s been living in cities for too long, she’s forgotten how truly mind-blowingly beautiful the night sky can be out in the country.

“This beats that star map thing on your phone any day,” she notes, getting a chuckle in return.

“You remember that?” he asks, sounding surprised.

Clarke scoots closer, until his hand comes around her waist to pull her against him. She lets out a sigh. “Of course I do.”

Her eyes have adapted a little to the darkness and she can make out his face a few inches from hers.

“Did you have a good time today?” she asks, voice dropping due to the darkness and silence surrounding them.

His warm hand slides up her back once and then down to rest at her hip. “Of course I did, it’s been amazing.”

“It really has been, right?” she agrees with a smile.

He hums, inching closer so their noses brush. “The only thing that could make it even better would be seeing those Northern lights.”

As one, they turn to look at the sky above, but apart from the stars, it’s dark.

“It is still early,” she notes. “It could start later in the night, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees, his hand trailing down her hip to squeeze her butt. “Whatever will we do until then?”

She slides her foot up his leg. “I think I might have a few ideas.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, lips hovering a fraction of an inch from hers.

“Uh-huh. You know, you were driving me crazy at the restaurant earlier.”

He chuckles, pulling her leg up over his hips and grinding against her. “Good, that was the point.”

“Evil.”

But he finally kisses her, so she supposes she can forgive him, just this once.

He still tastes like the hot chocolate they had in the communal kitchen before everyone retired to their own bubble for the night, and she eagerly deepens the kiss, sliding one hand around his neck to keep him in place.

For what feels like hours, it’s just a lazy slide of mouths, hands exploring what they can reach without having to move, little gasps and groans when one of them finds a sensitive spot.

Then Clarke digs her heel into his back, pushing him harder against her, and he breaks the kiss to roll them so he’s pinning her to the bed, deliciously heavy on top of her.

“Trying to move things along, Princess?” he asks before kissing her collar bone.

“Well, you were taking forev…” she trails off in a gasp when his lips close around a nipple, arching against him.

He doesn’t linger, letting his teeth graze the hardened bud before moving down her belly.

“Then I guess I better get a move on.”

And, boy, he does. Within a few minutes, his fingers and tongue have her right on the edge. When he curls his fingers just right and sucks her clit into his mouth, she comes with a cry.

Bellamy guides her through her climax, pressing kisses to the inside of her thighs and her stomach as his fingers continue moving slowly inside her. When she finally lets out a deep breath and practically sinks into the mattress, all of her bones seemingly turned to liquid, he moves up her body again until they’re face to face.

“You think these things are sound proof?” he asks with a smirk. “If not, I’m pretty sure you just alerted the neighbors to what we’re up to.

Clarke can’t help but giggle. “I guess we’ll find out on the way back tomorrow.”

She realizes that she’s also completely naked with nothing but the see through bubble between her and the rest of the world, but honestly, she can’t bring herself to care if the other guests see or hear them. It’s not like she’ll ever meet those people again, and if it means amazing sex under the stars, she can take a couple of awkward looks during the drive back to the city.

Bellamy doesn’t seem too bothered by it either, leaning down to kiss her. When she slides a hand down his stomach to wrap around him, he nudges her legs apart to be able to settle between them and slowly pushes into her.

She lets herself get lost in the feeling of his lips on hers, their tongues battling, his dick moving deep inside her. With the stars above them and the snow covered trees around them, it’s almost like they’re the only people on earth.

After an infinite moment, he breaks the kiss, leaning down to suck her nipple into his mouth as his hips snap against hers. Clarke lets out a gasp at the feeling, one hand sliding into his hair to hold him in place and her eyes going to the see through ceiling above them and the sky beyond.

And that’s when she sees it.

There’s no way to really describe it, it’s like… colors dancing across the sky. Greens and yellows, but also reds and purples, shimmering against the star studded blackness. The small glimpse they got yesterday was nothing in comparison.

It takes Bellamy a moment to realize that something’s going on.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, stilling in his movements above her.

She releases her grip on his hair to point behind him. “The Northern lights.”

He immediately cranes his neck around to be able to see. “Wow…”

“It’s amazing,” Clarke agrees, gaze fixed on the light show.

He turns back to her, the expression on his face torn, and she can’t help but laugh.

“How about we watch the show for a while and pick this up a little later?” she suggests.

But he shakes his head. “Nope, not going to happen.”

He leans down and kisses her again, one hand sliding under her waist, and before she can really react, he’s rolled them over so he’s on his back.

“Hey,” she half-complains as she pushes herself up a little to find a better position. “Now _I_ can’t see.”

Bellamy’s hands slide up her thighs to her waist, holding her steady. “Lean back,” he tells her.

Hesitantly, she reaches behind her with one hand to find that he’s bent his legs to form a sort of backrest for her. His hands are firm on her waist as she slowly leans backwards until she’s propped up against his thighs, a perfect position to look up at the sky without having to move too much. It’s not going to be comfortable for any extended period of time, but it should be fine for a little while.

“OK?” he asks, moving his hips to thrust up into her, the angle sending sparks of pleasure through her entire body.

“Yes, oh fuck,” Clarke moans, fighting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut. “Do that again.”

He chuckles but obliges, this time guiding her a little with his hands on her hips.

It takes a moment to get into a rhythm, but soon, their bodies are moving together almost in time with the undulating colors above them, and when he pushes her over the edge for the second time a few minutes later, they continue to play on the inside of her eyelids as her orgasm washes over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	25. There's an Endless Road to Rediscover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the Big Blake Sibling Reunion – I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve been waiting for Octavia! I had some trouble with her character in my last fic, so it was a nice change to be able to write her without all the baggage from the actual show, and just some “normal” baggage ;) 
> 
> As usual, I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Oh, and I haven’t watched the new episode yet, so no spoilers please!
> 
> Chapter title from “Hey Brother” by Avicii – rest in peace. I just feel like the lyrics fit so well with the Blake siblings, especially around the end of season 3, early season 4, after Lincoln’s death… maybe not so much in this fic, though this particular line feels like it works great with this chapter of them getting to know each other again.

The next morning, Clarke’s about ninety-five percent sure that nobody heard what they were up to last night. She doesn’t get any knowing or awkward looks during the improvised breakfast, anyway. Everyone’s too busy talking about the Northern lights, showing the photos and videos they managed to capture on their phones. After they had sex, Bellamy actually went outside into the freezing night to take some pictures with Raven’s old camera, so he has the best ones by far and everyone gather around to look at them.

On the ride back to Reykjavik, she’s further assured that they must have managed to not raise suspicion, at least. She’s fairly sure that the older American couple, who seem very conservative, would be unable to hide their discomfort if they had heard or seen anything, and the Swedes show no sign of it either. Despite her excitement at the possibility, she is kind of relieved that nobody actually caught them.

They’re dropped off at their hotel again, making plans with the Swedish couple to meet up for dinner on Sunday, the last night before they leave for Dublin. After that, they spend the rest of the day in the hotel spa, trying out the hot tubs – one inside and one outside – and the sauna.

The second day tour on Saturday is just as amazing as the first one, with stops at two more waterfalls – one of which they get to walk behind, which is an interesting experience – and an almost otherworldly beach. There’s hardly any snow here, possibly washed away by the water, so they can see the black sand clearly.

“Wow,” Bellamy says quietly, dragging the toe of his boot through the sand. “I’ve never seen a black beach before.”

“I’ve been to a couple,” Clarke replies from a few feet away. “If you want to see one with slightly better conditions for swimming, I think there’s one about an hour from Auckland, we should have time for a visit.”

“Sure, that sounds good.” He stops to reach out a hand for her. “Come on, let’s walk along the beach down to those sea stacks the guide was talking about.”

They set off at a safe distance from the edge of the wet sand, which indicates how high the roaring waves reach. At one end of the beach is a cliff top that the guide called Reynisfjall, part of which has been shaped by waves and erosion into almost square pillars, giving the entire cliff an odd, man-made look. When they round the cliff, they quickly spot the cave they were also told about and go inside for a moment, admiring the rock ceiling which is also shaped in the form of columns.

A bit further along, the sea stacks that locals call Reynisdrangar rise out of the sea – three huge basalt columns some ways from the beach, reaching for the sky. Clarke can kind of see where the myth of their origins came from – a battle between two trolls, who turned to stone as the sun rose, and a three-masted ship, which was trapped with them.

They round off the day with dinner before they reach another bubble hotel, where they’re shown to a bubble more or less identical to the one they slept in two nights ago.

The sky is still clear, and they have an amazing starscape above them when they turn off the lights, but no colors dance across the sky tonight.

They find other things to do to make the most of their last night in a bubble, though. And with less distractions, this time.

They get back to the hotel around noon on Sunday and just drop off their things before grabbing a quick lunch and heading out again, mainly because Clarke realizes she hasn’t picked up any souvenirs for Raven, which she knows from experience will not be appreciated. Whenever she goes somewhere that Raven hasn’t been, she always brings something back for her.

They meet the Swedish couple, Emma and Simon, at a traditional Icelandic restaurant in the evening. The food isn’t as out there as Clarke knows some local dishes can be, but Bellamy’s eyes still widen at some of the options.

“Cod’s head?” he questions quietly.

“Yeah, I’m not adventurous enough to try that,” she agrees. “But at least there’s no fermented shark.”

His eyes snap to her at that. “Shark, seriously?”

“Apparently it’s a local delicacy,” she explains with a shrug.

The food they do end up ordering is delicious, though.

All in all, when they board the plane on Monday morning, Clarke feels like they’ve really gotten the full Icelandic experience.

“Who is it that we’re staying with in Dublin again?” Bellamy asks a little sleepily when they’ve settled into their seats – her little trick has worked again and they have the row to themselves.

Her brain’s not working fully yet – they didn’t get back to the hotel until almost midnight, and had to be a the airport at six, so neither of them have gotten much sleep – so she has to think for a moment before she can answer.

“Monroe,” she finally remembers. “We were in San Francisco together back in the fifties, we’re not as close as me and Raven or Wells, but she’s a good friend.”

A good friend who is currently in Los Angeles, not Dublin.

“Right, first name Zoe,” he says before closing his eyes and leaning back in the seat. Clarke does the same – it’s only a two and a half hour flight, but a couple more hours of sleep can’t hurt.

Only she can’t doze off. She can tell that Bellamy has, his deep, even breaths soothing in her ear, but she just can’t relax enough herself.

She’s getting nervous, she realizes. She knows, she’s a hundred percent certain, that Bellamy will be ecstatic to see Octavia. But still, somewhere deep down, is a tiny voice insisting that maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll be furious that she’s intervened, that she went behind his back and lied to him…

By the time the plane touches down in Dublin and he stretches next to her, she’s worked herself into some sort of half-frenzy and can’t stop fidgeting as they leave the plane.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asks when they’re in the back of a cab, the driver armed with Octavia’s address.

“Nothing,” Clarke tells him, forcing a smile onto her face. She can tell by his expression that he’s not buying it. “I’m just tired, I couldn’t sleep on the plane.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Bellamy still shoots her the occasional questioning look during the rest of the drive, but fortunately – or unfortunately, she’s really not sure yet – the drive into the city is only half an hour, and soon, they’re getting out of the cab at an intersection.

Clarke’s not all that familiar with Dublin, she hasn’t been here in decades, but she studied the map before they left New York and knows that they’re not far from the city center. Across the street is a fenced in playground, and brick buildings line the streets in all directions.

She checks the address on her phone while Bellamy pays the cab driver and points to a building a couple of doors down when he joins her.

“I think that’s it,” she says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well, come on then,” he replies. “I’m dying for something more substantial than a breakfast croissant.”

Octavia told her that she’d make sure the door from the street was open, and it is, so they don’t have to ring the buzzer for the apartment. Clarke hurries into the building, hoping that Bellamy won’t study the board with the residents’ names too closely.

The elevator is waiting for them and soon they’re getting out on the top floor, and her heart is seriously making a valiant attempt to beat out of her chest.

There aren’t any names on the doors, but she knows which one is their goal. After she knocks on it, she sucks in a deep breath and holds it.

At first, there’s no sound from inside the apartment, and for a split second, she thinks that Octavia has changed her mind.

Then she hears footsteps approaching, and a moment later the door opens.

If she met the woman she finds herself face to face with in the street, she probably wouldn’t have seen the resemblance between her and Bellamy. But knowing their relationship, she picks up on the small similarities – something in the shape of the eyes, if not the color, their postures, and, if Octavia had been smiling and not looking like she might throw up at any moment, the way their mouths quirk up first on one side and then the other.

Clarke meets the younger Blake’s eyes for a moment, a silent greeting, before the other woman’s gaze flits to her brother.

“What… what’s going on here?” Bellamy asks, voice incredulous. “Octavia?”

Possibly encouraged by the fact that her surprise appearance isn’t met with anger, Octavia smiles tentatively. “Hi, big brother.”

Clarke finally dares to look at Bellamy again, and is relieved to see that he looks confused and a little gob smacked, but not upset in any way.

“I don’t understand…” he starts, meeting her eyes with a questioning look. “Clarke? I thought…”

“I’m sorry I lied,” she apologizes quickly. “I, _we_ , wanted it to be a surprise.”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Well, mission accomplished.”

Octavia seems to snap into action suddenly, stepping aside and waving them into the apartment. “You can’t stand out there all day, come on in.”

Clarke lets Bellamy lead the way into the apartment, where Octavia goes into what is obviously a living room. The space is full of natural light streaming in through three large windows and sparsely furnished – a large couch, a coffee table and a flat screen TV mounted on the wall.

A man that Clarke immediately identifies as Lincoln is sitting on the couch, but he gets up when the three of them enter the room, reaching out to squeeze Octavia’s hand when she stops next to him.

“This is my boyfriend, Lincoln,” she introduces him. “And this is my brother, Bellamy, and his girlfriend, Clarke.”

Lincoln holds out his hand and Clarke takes the lead. “It’s nice to meet you, Lincoln. Thank you for letting us stay here.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” he replies with a warm smile, surprising her with his obviously American accent. “And of course we wouldn’t have you stay in a hotel, family is family.”

Bellamy is still looking a bit like he’s not quite sure that he isn’t actually dreaming, but when Lincoln turns to him, he accepts the other man’s outstretched hand and shakes.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Lincoln says. “I’ve been hearing a lot of stories about you.”

“I… it’s nice to meet you too.”

Octavia seems to realize that her brother’s completely overwhelmed and doesn’t know what to do, because she takes a step in the direction of the hallway.

“Why don’t I show you the guest room, let you settle in a little?” she suggests. “Did you eat before the flight or on the plane? I thought we could take you out to lunch and then show you around the city a little bit? We’re only about five minutes from the city center and the weather’s nice…” She trails off as if she realizes that she’s rambling, and Clarke gives her an encouraging smile.

“That sounds good, right?” She reaches out to interlace her fingers with Bellamy’s and squeezes lightly, snapping him out of his slight daze.

“Yes, that sounds great,” he agrees with a nod.

“OK, come on.”

Octavia leads them back out past the front door to a room at one end of the hallway.

“Here we are,” she says, stopping on one side of the bed. “It’s not much, but the bed’s really comfy, it was mine before Lincoln moved in. Just… unpack or whatever you want to do, the top two drawers in the dresser are empty and there’s space in the cupboard. There are clean towels in the guest bathroom next door, if you want to take a shower or freshen up. We’ll be in the living room, just come on out when you want to get going.”

“We will,” Clarke assures her. “Thank you.”

Bellamy nods, eyes intent on his sister. “Yeah, thanks, O.”

Clarke thinks she sees some emotions flash in Octavia’s eyes at her old nickname, and her smile widens before she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

The moment she’s gone, Bellamy slumps down on the bed, falling backwards and letting out a breath.

“You OK?” Clarke asks tentatively, sitting down next to him.

“I’m… I’m good, I think,” he replies, staring at the ceiling lamp above him.

“You’re not mad at me?”

At her question, he pushes himself back into a sitting position and gives her an incredulous look. “Mad? Why on earth would I be mad at you?”

She shrugs. “Because I meddled. I went behind your back and looked up Octavia and contacted her. I lied to you when I said I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“And I’m glad you did all that,” he insists. “I mean… yeah, I would have been excited if you told me that we were meeting Octavia here before we left New York, but I think… maybe I would have worried and obsessed over it, thought about it all the time. I don’t think I would have been able to let that go while we were in Iceland. So thank you.” He takes both her hands in his. “Thank you for giving me my sister back.”

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far… I mean, you were thinking about looking her up, right?”

“Yeah.” Bellamy nods. “I was going to do that when we got back to New York, but I thought she was in the States, maybe still in Florida… I might not have had time to see her if I had waited until then, with her all the way over here.”

“Maybe not,” she agrees, squeezing his hands.

“So again, thank you.”

Clarke leans forward to brush her lips over his in a brief kiss.

“I love you,” she says quietly when she pulls away, the smile on his face radiant.

“I love you.” He looks down at their joined hands for a moment before continuing. “So what have you told her?”

He doesn’t need to spell it out for her to understand what he means.

“Nothing about that,” she replies. “I just said that we were going to Europe and I knew you really wanted to make things right between the two of you.”

Bellamy nods thoughtfully.

“I don’t know if I… should I tell her?”

“That’s completely up to you.”

“But if I wanted to tell her, I could?” he asks. “I mean, about the whole Soul Keeper thing. It might be hard to explain how I know otherwise.”

“That’s true.” She supposes they could come up with something, some disease, but she can see why he wouldn’t want to do that. “And yes, you can tell her everything, if you want.”

“OK.” He takes a deep breath. “I honestly don’t know if I want to tell her or not. On the one hand, it feels like it would taint the time we do have together, if that makes sense? But on the other hand…”

He trails off and Clarke takes a deep breath before speaking, trying to keep it together. “Do you want her there? I mean… when…”

He shakes his head immediately, understanding what she means without her finishing the sentence, which is a relief since she doesn’t really want to. “No. Just you. Unless it would be easier for you if…”

“Don’t think about me,” she interrupts him. “That’s completely up to you, OK? You don’t have to worry about anything but what _you_ want.”

Bellamy gives her a long, scrutinizing look but eventually nods. “OK. Then I don’t think I’ll tell her. But I might change my mind.”

“Of course.” She desperately needs to change the topic, and it seems like he’s done discussing it for now, so she gets up from the bed. “I think I’ll take a quick shower before we head out, OK?”

“Sure, go ahead. Just… one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

He hesitates for a moment. “Octavia, did you get a look at her Number?”

Ah. Clarke knew this question was coming. “I did, and she is going to have a long life.”

“Really?” he asks with a half-smile.

“Yup. She’s twenty-five, right?” At his nod, she continues. “Then she is going to see her ninetieth birthday, she has 23,812 days left to live.”

“Twenty-three thousand… wow.” Bellamy pauses for a moment. “And you’re not just saying that?”

She shakes her head. “Of course not, I wouldn’t do that.”

“No, I know, I don’t even know why I asked that. And Lincoln?”

“19,875.”

He sighs. “So if they end up staying together, she’ll be alone for about ten years after he’s gone.”

She just nods, having to swallow down a lump in her throat. Sure, to a Norm, ten years is a long time, but to her… it’s nothing compared to the time she’ll be alone.

“I don’t know why I haven’t asked about this before,” he continues. “I guess it took my brain a while to catch up to everything. What about Miller and Jackson?”

Clarke doesn’t go around memorizing people’s Numbers, not even the people she knows, it just wouldn’t be possible considering the amounts of Numbers she sees on a daily basis. In this case, though, she has a pretty good idea.

“I don’t remember the exact Number, but it was somewhere around twenty thousand,” she says. “And they have the same Number.”

His eyebrows shoot up at that. “The same?”

“Yeah. It’s not very common, even among couples, that’s partly why I remember it, actually. Normally, I would assume it means an accident of some sort, but considering they’ll both be pretty old, that’s not necessarily the case.”

“Twenty thousand, that’s…”

“About 55 years,” she finishes for him, having mastered the calculation over the years.

“So Miller will be around 85 and Jackson 88.”

“Long – and hopefully happy – lives.”

Bellamy nods thoughtfully at that. “Good.” He looks up at her with a sort of smile. “Go take your shower so we can get out of here!”

She leans down for a chaste but long kiss before obliging.

Forty-five minutes later, they’re back out in the weak January sunshine, Octavia and Lincoln leading the way into the city center.

“So what are you guys in the mood for, lunch wise?” Octavia asks over her shoulder.

Bellamy gives Clarke a questioning look and she shrugs to indicate that she’s good with whatever.

“You’re the locals,” he says. “We’re happy to go with whatever you recommend.”

They end up at a burger place on O'Connell Street that Octavia swears has amazing burgers and the best milkshakes in the city.

Once they’ve ordered, the silence turns a little tense, and Lincoln immediately takes the lead on the conversation.

“So Iceland?” he starts. “That must have been quite an experience.”

Clarke shoots him an appreciative smile. “It really was. Just the nature, once you get out of the city, it’s so completely different from anything I’ve seen.”

She delves into a description of everything they saw and did, Bellamy jumping in when he thinks she forgets something. Once they get to the night in the first bubble hotel, he pulls out his phone to show some of the photos – the best ones are on the camera, of course, which is back at the apartment, but he got a couple of amazing shots on his phone as well.

“Wow,” Octavia mumbles as she hands the phone back to her brother. “That must have been amazing.”

Bellamy’s mouth turns up in a half smile. “It really was.”

“Remember how Mom used to talk about seeing the Northern lights?” she continues, a matching smile on her face. “Because she was convinced she was named after them.”

He laughs at that, but Clarke can see the hint of sadness in his eyes and reaches under the table to squeeze his hand. “I doubt her parents had any idea what the Northern lights even were.”

“But Mom was so sure,” Octavia adds. “I’m glad you got to see them, even if she never did.”

It occurs to Clarke that maybe that’s why he wanted to in the first place, and her heart aches a little.

“Me too, O,” he says with a sigh. “You should really check them out, if you can. It’s out of this world, really, definitely worth the trip.”

“Yeah.” Octavia glances at Lincoln, who offers a smile. “Maybe someday.”

This time, it’s Clarke who breaks the silence that falls over them.

“So how did the two of you meet?” she asks curiously.

At her question, Lincoln ducks his head and Octavia laughs. “That’s a funny story, actually,” she says. “It was, what, around two years ago? I had just moved here because the gym I worked at in London opened a new branch and wanted me to sort of oversee that, and I knew absolutely nobody in the city. Then, like, two weeks or something after we had gotten the new place up and running, I started noticing this guy in almost all my classes. He always sort of lingered after class was over, but there were always people asking questions and stuff, and by the time everyone left, he was gone too.”

“I was trying to work up the courage to actually talk to her,” Lincoln pipes in. “Octavia might not be aware of it herself, but she can be a little… intimidating before you get to know her.”

Bellamy snorts at that. “She can be pretty intimidating when you do know her too.” He jumps a little in his seat. “Ow. Did you just kick me, O?”

She just gives him an innocent smile. “Anyway, so after a month or so, I had finally had it, so I marched right up to him after a class and asked what he was doing.”

“Which of course had me tongue tied,” Lincoln says with a laugh.

Octavia joins in before continuing. “And, OK, I might have overreacted a little, I started going on about how he was being creepy, that it’s not OK to stalk people and that I was working and stuff, and then he just sort of blurted out ‘will you go out with me?’.”

“I think it’s the only time I’ve ever rendered her speechless.”

Bellamy pauses, his half-eaten burger in midair. “Wow. That’s impressive, man. I don’t think I managed to do that more than a handful of times in eighteen years.”

Octavia elbows Lincoln in the side and sends her brother an annoyed look. “I wanted you two to get along but I didn’t think you’d gang up on me.”

“We’re just messing with you,” Lincoln assures her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, but doesn’t seem too bothered. “Right, that was _our_ story, what about you two? How’d you meet?”

Clarke glances at Bellamy, trying to tell him that it’s up to him what exactly he wants to tell his sister.

“I think we have you beat, actually,” he starts. “The first time we met, I actually saved Clarke’s life.”

Both Octavia’s and Lincoln’s eyes widen. “Really?” Octavia asks.

“Really,” Clarke confirms. “Someone bumped into me on the sidewalk and pushed me into the street. If it weren’t for your brother, I probably would have been run over by a cab, but he pulled me out of the way.”

“Wow, that’s like, super romantic,” Octavia notes with a slightly dreamy expression that surprises Clarke. “So was it love at first sight?”

A couple of months ago, Clarke would have denied that automatically, but now… “It was definitely _something_ at first sight,” she settles on, getting a snort from Bellamy.

“Did I dazzle you with my charm during the, what, thirty word conversation we had, Princess?” he asks drily.

“I was sort of pre-dazzled by the whole almost getting hit by a car thing,” she replies with a smirk.

Their eyes meet and for a moment, it’s like everything around them melts away and they’re back on that street, cars whizzing past them and people bustling around, but none of that breaking through their little bubble of peace.

Octavia’s voice brings them both back to the present, if the way Bellamy shakes his head slightly is any indication. “OK, so what’s with the princess thing?”

“That’s from the second time we met, also completely by accident,” Clarke tells her.

“Yeah, I didn’t have the presence of mind to ask for her number the first time,” Bellamy picks up the narrative. “But then Miller dragged me along to a Halloween party at one of his co-workers’ place, and there she was – dressed as Cinderella or something.”

Octavia raises her eyebrows. “Seriously? I honestly have a hard time picturing that.”

“It’s true,” Clarke confirms. “It wasn’t by choice, but I was wearing a huge princess ball gown and a tiara. And he will not let it go.”

Bellamy laughs. “Oh please, you know you love it. And then I did dazzle you with my amazing knowledge of the constellations.”

She just shakes her head at that, a smile on her lips, and watches an incredulous look spread on Octavia’s face.

“You picked up a girl using star gazing?” she asks. “Only you, Bell. I guess you two really are perfect for each other if _that_ worked.”

Clarke already knew that, but hearing someone else, someone who, despite the years they haven’t had any contact, knows Bellamy better than most, is still a little overwhelming.

She feels Bellamy’s hand search hers out under the table, his thumb brushing against her palm before he interlaces their fingers.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

After they finish their lunch, they stroll around Dublin, Octavia and Lincoln showing them different sights. They cross the Liffey and head right, weaving through the streets and passing the Molly Malone statue, the castle and Christ Church cathedral before reaching the Guinness brewery, where they turn around and head back towards the center of the city along the river. In the heart of Temple Bar, Lincoln stops outside what looks like an art gallery.

“Octavia’s told me you paint,” he says, directed at Clarke. “A friend of mine is showing some pieces here at the moment, I thought we might check it out?”

She realizes what he’s trying to do without him having to say anything.

“I’d like that,” she replies, turning to Bellamy. “You two will be OK on your own for a while, right?”

He looks a little terrified at the thought, but nods all the same. “Of course.”

Lincoln and Octavia seem to be having some sort of silent conversation that ends with Lincoln raising his eyebrows and Octavia sighing.

“Come on, big brother, let’s leave these two to their cultural education,” she says. “We’ll grab some coffee and then I can maybe show you Trinity College campus? It’s really nice, I think you’d like it.”

Clarke knows that Bellamy has already been checking it out online, and they’re planning on visiting the Book of Kells exhibition on Friday.

“That sounds great, O,” he happily agrees.

“I’ll give you a call when we’re done here,” Lincoln says. “Depending on where you are, we can meet up for dinner somewhere, or one of us can pick up food on the way home.”

“Good plan.”

They say their goodbyes and Lincoln and Clarke wait until Bellamy and Octavia have turned a corner before entering the gallery.

“So I don’t think I was very subtle just now,” he says when they’re in the main exhibition hall. “I mean, my friend Nyko _is_ showing here, but I mainly wanted to give Octavia and Bellamy some time alone.”

Clarke chuckles. “I picked up on that, yeah. I was hoping to come up with a way to give them some alone time myself, actually, I think it’ll be good for them to really talk things through.”

He lets out a breath. “That was my thinking, yes.”

They move around the gallery slowly, perusing the artwork on display. Still, by the time they’ve seen everything, it’s only been an hour since they parted ways with the Blake siblings.

“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee before we meet up with the others?” Clarke suggests when they’re back on the street, and Lincoln readily agrees, leading the way to a little café a couple of streets over.

“Listen,” he says once they’re seated at a table in a corner, huge mugs of coffee in front of both of them. “I wanted to thank you.”

She frowns. “For what?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to get Octavia to reach out to her brother ever since she told me about what happened between them,” he elaborates. “So about a year now. Without success, obviously. So I’m really glad you contacted her and made this happen.”

Clarke can feel her cheeks heat up a little. “I don’t know if I _made_ it happen… I just hope they can make up and move past this, you know?”

He nods. “I do. And I think they will. I know Octavia has been blaming herself for their falling out, and I can guess that Bellamy has too?”

“Yeah. And both of them have been hoping the other will make the first move.”

“Exactly.” Lincoln chuckles. “So thank you. I know Octavia will be happier with her brother back in her life.”

Clarke feels a pinch of guilt at that, because, really, she won’t have him back for long. But hopefully she’ll be grateful that they at least got to make up before it was too late.


	26. I Want to Reach Out and Touch the Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some more Octavia, and more Dublin! It’s an amazing city, definitely one of my favorites, so it was nice to “visit” it again, even if it was only virtually
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Where the Streets Have no Name” by U2 (the “flame” thing was actually completely unintentional, I honestly didn’t even think about the connection to the show until just now, when I was posting, I just wanted a song related to Belfast!)

Clarke and Lincoln spend an hour and a half at the coffee shop, getting to know each other a little better. Clarke hasn’t told Octavia a lot about herself, they mostly talked about Bellamy during their phone conversations, so she sticks with her standard background – what she told Bellamy initially – hoping he’ll tell Octavia the same thing, if she asks.

They talk about their shared love of art, eventually getting to their own works. Lincoln photographs weddings and similar events and also does some portrait photography to get an actual income, but his passion is on the more artistic side and Clarke immediately loves his more abstract pieces. Considering he does this for a living, she’s a little nervous about showing him her own paintings, but Lincoln insists he would love to see them, so she pulls up images of some pieces that have already sold in her Etsy store.

“This one is amazing,” he notes, pointing at one of the angry pieces she did after meeting Bellamy and discovering his Number. “It’s so full of emotions…”

Clarke remembers her state of mind during those few weeks and full of emotions is really spot on, even if she hadn’t wanted to actually face those emotions at the time. “Yeah, it was a… difficult time for me,” she half-explains. Lincoln gives her a long look but doesn’t ask anything else.

When they finally leave the coffee shop, Lincoln calls Octavia to find out that she and Bellamy are already home, so he calls in an order at an Indian restaurant a few blocks from the apartment and he and Clarke pick it up on their way.

When Lincoln opens the door, they’re greeted by laughter coming from the living room, and Clarke feels like her whole heart swells three sizes, Grinch-style, when they follow the sound to find the Blake siblings on the couch watching some sitcom on the TV.

“I hope you’re not continuing our _Santa Clarita Diet_ marathon without me,” Lincoln notes lightly, putting the bags of take-out down on the coffee table, where there are already plates, cutlery and a couple of beers waiting.

Octavia rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it. We were talking about… something, I don’t even know, and somehow we ended up on _That ‘70s Show_ , which Bell refused to let me watch until I was thirteen, by which time it was just going off the air, and it’s on Netflix!” She gestures excitedly at the screen, where Fez and Hyde are doing something.

Clarke is sure that the affectionate smile on Lincoln’s face is mirrored on her own.

“Did you have a good time at the gallery?” Bellamy asks, reaching for the nearest bag and transferring the boxes in it to the table.

Clarke sits down next to him, Octavia on his other side and Lincoln next to her. “We did,” she confirms. “There’s some serious artistic talent in Dublin, that’s for sure. Nyko’s work is amazing. And I’ve convinced Lincoln to give us a private viewing of some of his photos.”

Lincoln shakes his head at that. “I said I would think about it,” he reminds her.

“He’s such a baby when it comes to his photography,” Octavia complains, scooping some chicken biryani onto her plate. “He almost never lets me see his pictures either.”

Bellamy shoots Clarke a look with raised eyebrows. “Where do I know that from?”

She elbows him lightly in the side. “It’s an artist thing,” she says with a shrug. “I never feel like I’m finished with a piece, so it’s hard to show it to someone, I guess.”

“Exactly,” Lincoln agrees with a nod.

“Well, I love your art,” Bellamy continues, sliding an arm around her waist to pull her closer and press a kiss to her temple.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she tells him with a smile, stealing a quick kiss before grabbing a box of food.

“Hey, no fooling around at the dinner table,” Octavia says, throwing a balled up napkin at Bellamy. “Oh, and do you want something else to drink, Clarke? Bell said beer was fine, but we have soda and maybe some cider if you’d prefer that?”

Clarke accepts the box of tikka masala that Bellamy holds out for her as she shakes her head. “Beer is absolutely fine.”

It’s probably one of the best evenings Clarke’s had in a while – they keep watching the show, which she never really got into while it aired so it’s all new to her, and eat way too much food. The best part, though, is probably when Bellamy and Octavia revert to insider jokes from their childhood. Neither Clarke nor Lincoln get them, but they exchange looks now and then, both relishing the moment of the siblings being reunited and enjoying spending time together.

She waits until she and Bellamy are in bed, hours later, before she asks him about his afternoon with his sister.

“So you and Octavia worked through everything?” she starts as he slides between the sheets.

He doesn’t answer until they’ve settled down in the middle of the bed, him on his back with an arm around her waist and her on her side, head on his chest and one leg thrown over his.

“We did. It was basically ten minutes of both of us trying to apologize over each other, until we realized that there was no point in re-hashing the past… we both regret how things turned out back then, but trying to assign blame won’t change anything. We both could have handled the situation better and we’re both sorry and want to move past it, that’s what’s important.”

“I’m glad.”

He hums in response and silence settles over them for a long moment, before he speaks again.

“I might have accidentally let her believe that we met a year ago and not this fall, by the way. Just in case it comes up.”

Clarke pushes herself up on one elbow to be able to look at him. “How come?”

He half-shrugs. “I don’t know, she said something that made me realize that’s what she thought, and I didn’t correct her. I mean, it’s not exactly normal to head out on a six month long trip around the world with someone you’ve known for three months, you know?”

She chuckles before lying back down. “Yeah, that thought crossed my mind when I talked to her on the phone, too. I deliberately kept the time frame of our relationship a little vague. As long as you’re fine with that, we can go with it, I don’t mind.”

Bellamy joins in her chuckle for a moment.

“What else did you tell her?” she asks. “I didn’t really say much about myself when we talked, and I basically told Lincoln the same story I gave you when we met.”

“Yeah, I stuck with that too,” he replies. “Octavia was pretty curious, asking question after question, and I’ve never been good at coming up with stuff on the spot, so it was just easier to use your story.”

“We should be fine, then.”

He runs a hand down her back and then up again. “We should, yeah. So tell me about Lincoln. Is he good enough for my baby sister?”

Clarke has to laugh at the question. “Would anything I told you make him good enough for Octavia in your eyes?”

He ponders the question for a moment. “Probably not.”

“That’s what I though.” She lets out a sigh before continuing. “But he really does seem like a great guy. He’s passionate about his photography, but he’s realistic about it too, he has a business photographing weddings and stuff that’s doing well and he does his more artistic work on the side.”

“I know, O told me that too when I asked about him,” Bellamy says with a snort. “After she gave me a ‘don’t you butt in and try to scare him off’ speech. Which I’m not going to, of course… I just want to know that she’ll be OK when I’m not…”

She places a kiss on his chest when he trails off. “I know. And I really do think that she will be. It’s painfully obvious how much he loves her, there’s no way he would ever do anything to hurt her. I think she found one of the good ones.”

He lets out a long breath. “Good. I trust your judgment better than mine in this case, to be honest.”

“I am a little more impartial in this situation, I guess,” Clarke agrees.

“You definitely are,” he says with a chuckle. “She told me about the last seven years too… I’ve spent so much time thinking the worst, worrying that she was barely getting by, struggling, so it was nice to know that wasn’t the case.”

“What’s she been up to?” Clarke knows some things, but Instagram posts and Facebook statuses only tell you so much about a person’s actual life, beyond the flashy photos and upbeat commentary.

“Well, she started on that cruise ship,” he replies. “She did some waitressing, basic jobs here and there. Then during a cruise a couple of months after she started, half the staff in the fitness center came down with food poisoning so she offered to fill in and lead some of the classes, and the next time they were in port, she was offered a promotion to that department instead. At the end of her second season, she got the opportunity to do a couple of months on a ship in the Mediterranean, and the company helped her with the visa and stuff, so when a friend from the ship decided to head to London the year after, she was able to get a work permit and go with her. She worked at a gym there for about two years before moving here, getting more experience in the business and apparently becoming pretty close with the owner of the chain, Indra, because she specifically asked if O wanted to be in charge when they opened the branch here. She seems to really enjoy it, and I can actually see that it would be a good fit for her. She always had way too much energy as a kid, this gives her an outlet. I think it’s mellowed her a little, if you can believe that.”

‘Mellow’ is not a word that Clarke would use to describe Octavia, but she supposes it’s relative. From Bellamy’s stories about his sister as a kid, she knows the girl was a bit of a whirlwind so maybe she really has calmed down a little.

“She’s quite the world traveler then,” she notes.

“Yeah, she’s been all over the Caribbean, parts of South America, Europe…”

She trails a hand over his chest, tracing patterns against his skin. “Would you have wanted to do that? The cruise thing, I mean. I did think about it when I was planning the trip, but in the end, I decided against it, partly because of the whole Octavia situation… we can probably fit it in if you want, though, even if something else would have to go.”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “I don’t think I would have been very open to the idea a few weeks ago,” he finally says. “Because of Octavia, like you said. Now, I wouldn’t mind… but I like the plans we have, I don’t want to change anything at this point. Besides, there aren’t any historical sites on a cruise ship.”

Clarke lets out a chuckle at that. “I guess not.”

His arm tightens around her for a moment and she feels his lips against the top of her head. “OK, we should probably try to get some sleep, O was talking about everything she wanted to show us and do tomorrow, and it sounds like it’s going to be a _long_ day.”

Octavia sent a list of suggestions for activities to Clarke a couple of weeks ago, so they could coordinate a little and not book the same things, and she remembers wondering how on earth they were going to be able to squeeze everything in during their week, so she can imagine.

“Good plan,” she agrees, reaching behind her to turn off the bedside lamp before settling in again. “And you’re still good, still happy about being here, seeing Octavia?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shifts so she can bury her face against his throat, his body heat warming up her chilled nose immediately.

“No reason, just my subconscious still worrying.”

“Well, you can tell your subconscious to cut it out,” Bellamy tells her, voice amused. “Love you.”

“Mmm, love you.”

-100-

The next couple of days really are busy. After an amazing breakfast on Tuesday, courtesy of Lincoln who turns out to be a great cook, they start at Guinness, where they take an audio tour of the brewery that ends with a pint in the Gravity Bar, high above Dublin. Clarke’s never really been a fan of Guinness, it’s a little too heavy for her, but she has to admit that it tastes absolutely amazing here.

When they leave the brewery, instead of leading them back towards the city center, Octavia heads in the other direction.

“Where are we going, O?” Bellamy asks and she gives him a secretive smile.

“You’ll see,” she replies. “But please know that this part of the day is just for you, Bell. I hope you appreciate it.”

He frowns at that, giving Clarke a confused look, but she just shrugs to indicate that she doesn’t know either. Though she does have an inkling.

Which turns out to be right – after twenty minutes or so, they reach a two-story stone building and pause in a small court yard, just inside a cast iron fence.

“Kilmainham Gaol,” Bellamy reads out loud from the information sign, stumbling a little over the pronunciation. His eyes light up. “This is an old jail?”

“Yup,” Octavia confirms. “I basically googled ‘boring historical stuff to do in Dublin’ and this was one of the top hits, so I figured you’d enjoy it even if none of us do.”

Bellamy ruffles his sister’s hair affectionately. “Thanks for the sacrifice, O.”

They grab some lunch in the café before their tour of the old prison, which turns out to be really interesting – Clarke catches even Octavia listening intently to their guide.

They finish their tour a little after five in the afternoon, and the sun sets while they’re on their way back to O’Connell Street. They take a detour, passing St Patrick’s cathedral and strolling around Trinity College, which is beautifully lit up, for a little while before Octavia once again leads them across the river and comes to a stop outside a hotel.

“Um… is this your way of telling us you’re kicking us out of your place?” Clarke asks, eyeing the façade.

Octavia laughs, pushing the doors open. “Don’t be silly. We’re having dinner here, they’re supposed to have one of the best Irish dance shows in Dublin.”

The last time Clarke was in Ireland was in 1973, and this type of shows weren’t really a thing back then. She’s seen Riverdance on TV, of course, but the actual live show is still an amazing experience. Judging by the awed look on Bellamy’s face every time she glances at him, he’s enjoying himself too.

They stay at the hotel until well after midnight, Octavia insisting on trying different local drinks on the menu, claiming this is her chance to be a tourist in the city, something she never really got to be when she moved here.

By the time they stumble home through the empty streets – it is Tuesday, after all, most people have work in the morning – all four of them are pretty buzzed.

Which doesn’t stop Octavia from banging on the door to the guest room way too early the next morning, making Clarke jerk awake.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” she calls through the door. “I have big plans today, breakfast in ten.”

Bellamy groans next to her, burying his face in a pillow.

“How is she not half-unconscious still?” Clarke grumbles, pulling the comforter up to her chin.

“Deal with the devil?” he replies, voice still gravelly with sleep.

A few minutes later, there’s another bang on the door, and they reluctantly drag themselves out of bed.

Today, they’re apparently going further, because instead of leaving the building, they continue one floor down to the underground parking garage. When Octavia clicks a key fob, a green Ford blinks invitingly in a corner.

“You drive?” Bellamy asks, a little wary.

“Yes, shut up,” Octavia retorts brightly.

He holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say anything. Though if I were going to, I might point out that you swore up and down that you would never get behind the wheel again after the squirrel incident.”

“Squirrel incident?” Lincoln pipes in curiously.

“Octavia hit a squirrel the day she got her learner’s permit,” Bellamy expands. “She said she was never going to drive again because she didn’t want to kill any more innocent animals.”

Octavia lets out a huff. “It was traumatic!”

Lincoln squeezes her hand before opening the driver’s door for her. “I’m sure it was.”

But as he rounds the car, he sends Clarke an amused look.

The sun breaks through the clouds as they leave the city, and they get the first true glimpse of why the island is called the Emerald isle – despite it being mid-winter, the hills around them are green, dotted here and there with sheep and cows.

“OK, so I know you’re going up to Belfast tomorrow, but since it’s a bit of a drive, I figured you’d want to head straight there so you get as much time in the city as possible,” Octavia says when they’re on the highway Clarke recognizes from their ride from the airport. “So we’re doing a bit of a Bellamy tour today.”

The man in question chuckles next to Clarke in the backseat. “Seriously, O, you didn’t have to come up with all these things that _I_ would want to do,” he tells her affectionately.

She waves a hand dismissively in the air. “Who knows when you’ll be able to come here again? I wanted to cram as much into this visit as I could, so here we are.”

Clarke can feel the conflicting emotions practically radiating off him and reaches out to take his hand in hers, squeezing comfortingly. He sends her a grateful smile.

Octavia’s really done her homework – their first stop is Newgrange, a site with Neolithic burial mounds that, according to their guide, is a millennium older than Stonehenge, before they continue to the Hill of Tara, an area that was the island’s capital for thousands of years and is now only marked by ring forts and ruins.

After that, instead of getting back on the highway, Octavia turns onto a smaller country road.

“We have one more stop,” she tells them. “We could go back through Dublin, but I figured the scenic route would be more fun. And we can stop somewhere for lunch on the way.”

They do, at a cute little stonewashed cottage called Hollywood Café, of all things. Clarke feels like a real tourist, but she can’t help but ask Octavia to take a picture of her and Bellamy in front of it, the sign clearly visible behind them. She just knows Raven will get a laugh out of it.

Another half hour later, Octavia pulls off the country road, eventually coming to a stop in a car park. “We’re here,” she announces, killing the engine and getting out of the car.

“And where is here, exactly?” Bellamy asks as he gets out as well.

“Glendalough,” Octavia replies, as if that explains everything. “We’ve actually been here before, Lincoln did a photo shoot with a newlywed couple last summer, and it’s pretty cool. There’s a bunch of ruins, an old monastery, I think, and some other buildings, I figured it would be right up your alley.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes but Clarke can tell that he really is excited.

Octavia leads the way to a large, stone archway, beyond which they can see withering tomb stones of all shapes and sizes. They stroll around, reading names and dates on the stones that are still legible and venturing into the ruins of the monastery, where there are more graves, these with the stones set into the ground. Thousands and thousands of feet, as well as the elements once the building started to fall into decay, have worn them down and it’s almost impossible to tell what might have once been written on them.

Clarke’s favorite building is probably the Round Tower, a circular stone tower stretching over a hundred feet into the air. Lincoln, who apparently did some research before his photo shoot, tells them that the tower is almost a thousand years old and was used as a clock tower at one point.

After an hour or so, it starts raining, and they head back to the car. The drive back to Dublin follows more narrow country lanes, eventually offering glimpses of the Irish Sea in the distance.

By the time they get back to the apartment, it’s almost eight in the evening. Octavia suggests going out for dinner, maybe a few drinks, but to Clarke’s relief, Lincoln manages to convince her to stay in and let him cook instead.

The next morning, Clarke’s alone in bed when she wakes up. She finds Bellamy and Lincoln in the kitchen, scrambled eggs and toast in front of both of them.

“Morning, Princess,” Bellamy greets her with a smile when he spots her. “Sleep well?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirms, taking a seat next to him and stealing a slice of toast. “Octavia at work already?”

Lincoln nods. “She has a morning class today, so she left early. I’m heading out soon too, and I’m guessing you want to get going as well?”

Clarke glances at the clock on the wall behind him. Not quite nine yet, but they have an almost two hour drive ahead of them. “Probably, yeah. I just need some coffee and a shower and I’m good to go.”

Half an hour later, she and Bellamy are walking down the stairs to the garage, the keys to Octavia’s car in her hand.

“Do you want to drive?” she asks, glancing at him.

He gives her a horrified look. “On the wrong side of the road? _And_ the wrong side of the car? I think I’ll pass, if you’re OK driving.”

She laughs. “I’m pretty sure it would be even more difficult if you were on the other side of the car. But I’m fine driving, I drove quite a bit when I lived in Clovelly, since it’s out in the country.”

“Thank God.”

It takes a little getting used to, since it’s been a while, and the first roundabout they get to is terrifying for a brief moment, but soon enough, Clarke’s more or less comfortable behind the wheel again.

It’s raining when they leave Dublin, the countryside grey on either side of the highway, clouds hanging low over the treetops, but the closer they get to their destination, the clearer the sky above them becomes. There’s not much traffic, and they make good time, so it’s only a little after eleven when she pulls into a car park close to the center of Belfast, where the sun is actually shining.

They don’t really have anything specific planned for the day, so they just stroll around the city, taking in the different sights – parts of the Peace lines with beautiful murals, numerous old buildings and monuments. Clarke has never been to Belfast before, the last time she was in Ireland, in the seventies, the city was still very unsettled with bombings by the IRA and the INLA, so everything is new to her as well. After a late lunch they head down to the dock area, pausing to admire the futuristic building housing Titanic Belfast, before returning the way they came.

Friday is once again spent in Dublin, where they start at the Book of Kells exhibition and then explore the eastern parts of the city, around the docks. Octavia has an evening class – the only way she could get out of her Saturday morning class – but joins them halfway through dinner at a Chinese place close to her gym.

Saturday morning, all four of them take an Uber through the cold but sunny city to the Jameson Distillery, where they get a tour and do some whiskey tasting. It feels wrong at half past eleven in the morning, but it’s not like they get drunk off a few sips.

Octavia seems hell bent on correcting that, though.

“OK, so tonight we’re doing a pub crawl,” she announces when they leave the distillery. The weather’s still nice, and it even feels like the temperature might have risen, if only by a degree or two.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at his sister. “Really, O?”

“You cannot come to Dublin and not go on a pub crawl,” she insists. “It’s, like, in the law or something.”

Clarke’s almost positive that’s not actually true, and she can tell that Bellamy’s about to argue, but she squeezes his hand and gives him a look that she hopes says ‘just humor her, it would make her happy and you don’t have to drink much’. He seems to understand, because he lets out a sigh before agreeing.

“Great!” Octavia exclaims, looping her arm through Clarke’s. “I don’t know about you, but I really have nothing to wear tonight, so we are going shopping.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to balk, and she gets a half-smirk from Bellamy.

“We’re trying to travel light,” she tries. “I don’t really have room for some fancy party outfit.”

Octavia doesn’t seem bothered, though. “So leave it here, I can mail it to you once you’re back home again. Besides, I know we got to know each other a little over the phone, but we haven’t had any one-on-one time yet, just us girls.”

Clarke wonders if the ‘what are your intentions towards my brother?’ conversation that she got a hint of during their first phone call is coming and sends Bellamy a pleading look, but the traitor just smiles at her.

“Great idea, O,” he agrees. “That gives me and Lincoln a chance to get to know each other a little better, too.”

Clarke’s pretty sure Octavia didn’t think about that, because, for a brief moment, she looks like she might change her mind, but Lincoln squeezes her hand and she relaxes again.

An hour later, Clarke finds herself in a changing room trying to squeeze her boobs into a much too tight dress.

“This isn’t going to work,” she calls through the curtain, and half of Octavia’s face appears in a crack at one side.

“No, you’re right,” she agrees. “Try this one on instead.”

She holds out another dress, which at least looks like it might fit, even if it’s much shorter than what Clarke is used to. Not wanting to argue, she dutifully takes the dress and puts it on.

“Well… it fits,” she says, since that’s really the best thing she can say about the garment. It’s not her style at all – too short, too tight and too embellished. Besides, the temperatures are in the thirties, she’ll freeze her butt off in this.

“Yeah, that one’s not for you,” Octavia declares when she peeps into the changing room again. “How about this one?”

Her next suggestion is actually really cute…

It’s the one Clarke ends up getting, Octavia promising to lend her some tights and a pair of boots, since they’re somehow the same size in that department, if nowhere else.

Clarke keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Octavia to corner her and give her the third degree, but it never comes. Finally, she can’t take it anymore, so she brings it up herself as they’re finishing lunch at a cute coffee shop.

“So, I kind of thought this girl time was an excuse for you to interrogate me,” she says, getting a snort from Octavia.

“Honestly, I was planning to,” she admits, playing with the spoon in her coffee. “But I just… seeing you two together, I don’t really feel like I need to. I mean, Bell’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, I knew the first time he had a crush and I was just eight back then, so I was expecting to know the moment I saw him. But you’re the same. The moment you relaxed and stopped worrying about him being mad at you for not telling him about me, it was completely obvious to me that you’re just as crazy about him.”

The proclamation actually takes Clarke by surprise. She’s never seen herself as a person who projects her feelings, and nobody has ever told her that she does… well, except for Raven, but she doesn’t count since she knows Clarke better than she knows herself.

“I am,” she confirms. “I didn’t know it was that obvious, though, especially not to someone I barely know.”

Octavia laughs. “Oh, sweetie, you’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind to not see it.”

Clarke feels the heat rise in her cheeks, even though she doesn’t have anything to be embarrassed about.

“So, no. I’m not going to give you the third degree or ask what your intentions towards my brother are,” Octavia continues. “Even though I’m sure _he’s_ having that conversation with Lincoln. I don’t need to. Because I know that neither of you would do anything to hurt the other. If things don’t work out… well, that’s just the way life is sometimes. I know it wouldn’t be because you didn’t love each other. But I have a good feeling.”

The words make a small lump form in Clarke’s throat. “Well, I’m glad I won’t have to defend myself,” she says after swallowing. “And for what it’s worth, I do love him. I’m in this for the long haul.”

A big smile spreads on Octavia’s face. “Good. He deserves someone good. OK, we should get back out there, I still haven’t found anything to wear.”

Clarke plasters on a smile in return and gets up from their table, trailing behind Octavia out of the coffee shop.

The long haul is just six months, but Octavia doesn’t know that.


	27. La Cerveza y el Tequila y Tu Boca Con la Mía

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more Octavia in Dublin and then onto Edinburg and Glasgow – both amazing cities! 
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Bailando” by Enrique Iglesias (directly translated it’s basically ‘beer and tequila and your mouth on mine’)
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Clarke really does try to keep her alcoholic intake to a minimum during their pub crawl, but by midnight, she’s come to the conclusion that Octavia is some sort of booze wizard. Every time she puts down an empty bottle or glass, another full one appears in her hand, and the other woman’s enthusiastic babbling and insistence on dancing to every other song has some sort of almost hypnotic effect on Clarke where she keeps drinking without even really noticing.

“Was she always so…” she half asks as she slumps down next to Bellamy in a booth, tripping over the words a little and waving her hand in Octavia’s general direction – to her extreme relief, Lincoln stepped in a moment ago and pulled Octavia to the dance floor for a slow song.

“So… what?” Bellamy asks, and she turns her head and squints at him, realizing that he’s probably just as drunk as she is, if the way he’s swaying slightly, even sitting down, is any indication.

“So… enthi… enthust… en-thu-si-as-tic,” she enunciates slowly. She’s almost sure she gets it right.

“Yes,” he confirms. “But I think it’s exax… worse with alcohol.”

“Mmmm,” she hums, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “I was _not_ going to drink this much.”

She feels his hand sneak around her waist to pull her closer. “Me too.”

The music in the bar isn’t too loud – Clarke strongly suspects that the ‘dance floor’ she and Octavia have been occupying on and off for the last hour or so is in fact not meant for that specific activity – and they’re in the corner furthest from the sound system, so it’s actually pretty nice and quiet here.

“Hey, no sleeping!”

Clarke jerks up at Octavia’s voice, blinking confusedly. “I wasn’t.”

“Could have fooled me,” the other woman smirks, sliding into the booth on the other side of the table. “I want to do some real dancing, let’s get out of here.”

Bellamy groans. “We just want to go home and sleep,” he tells her.

“Oh please.” She tuts disapprovingly. “It’s not even late yet. You’re getting old, big brother.”

“Yup, that’s it,” he agrees. “You hit thirty and it’s all downhill from there.”

Octavia rolls her eyes before focusing on Clarke. “So what’s your excuse?”

On a logical level Clarke knows that she’s not supposed to tell Octavia that she is in fact over a century older than Bellamy. She really wants to, though, if it would get her out of going dancing.

“Out of practice,” she says instead, which is kind of true. “I don’t party much.”

Lincoln joins them at that moment, having apparently gotten everyone’s coats from the coat check. Clarke accepts hers and follows the others out of the pub, hoping against hope that they can convince Octavia to call it a night on the way to wherever she wants to go now.

“OK, how about if I promise no more drinking?” the younger Blake suggests as they set off along the street. “But there’s this great club on the way home, can we just stop by there for, like, an hour? I promise I’ll have you tucked into bed by two, in plenty of time before you turn into pumpkins.”

“It was the carriage that turned into a pumpkin, O,” Bellamy corrects her, nitpicking despite his level of intoxication. “And it was midnight, not two in the morning.”

Octavia elbows him in the side. “Whatever. Come on, please.” She drags the last word out, giving all of them puppy eyes.

Maybe she just has a soft spot for Blakes in general, but Clarke finds herself sighing and agreeing.

The cold night air has a rousing effect on all of them, and by the time they reach the club, they’ve all sobered up a little.

To her surprise, Clarke actually finds herself having a good time. She and Bellamy haven’t really gone out much, the closest probably being the New Year’s party at his and Miller’s place, and even then, they didn’t really dance much.

It’s kind of exciting to feel him behind her on the dance floor, his hands on her hips, the heat from his body making her skin tingle. They move together to the beat of music she’s unfamiliar with, the bass making her heart pound in her chest. Or maybe that’s just Bellamy’s fingers on her skin, pushing her hair back so he can place a kiss at the base of her throat. She lets a hand slide into his hair, holding him to her, and he wraps an arm around her waist to pull her flush against his chest.

Time moves strangely under the pulsing light, and she’s not sure how long they keep dancing like that. The beat changes, again and again, though always the same pounding bass.

After a while, she catches the eye of a tall, skinny brunette at the bar a few feet away, who’s giving them an evaluating look. She’s not sure who the woman is looking at – herself or Bellamy – but it doesn’t matter. She turns around so she can wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss that’s probably just a bit too dirty in public, but he happily returns it, his hands sliding down her back to her butt to press her closer to him.

“OK, let’s keep things PG here, alright?” Octavia’s voice comes from next to Clarke, making them pull apart. She can’t help the pout on her face, and Octavia laughs. “Maybe it’s time to call it a night.”

Clarke’s not really drunk anymore, but she still stumbles when they get out onto the sidewalk, and Bellamy quickly steadies her. “You OK there, Princess?” he murmurs in her ear, which really does nothing for her balance.

“Fine,” she tells him anyway, sliding a hand around his waist to hook her thumb in one of the hoops on his jeans. Not a huge amount of support, but better than nothing.

He chuckles lowly and mirrors her, slipping his hand under her jacket to rest against her hip. There are three layers of material between his thumb, which starts tracing patterns against her dress, and her skin, but somehow, she can still feel his warm touch right down to her bones.

Maybe it’s because they haven’t actually had sex since they got here – Bellamy’s gotten her off a couple of times, but he has some sort of hang-up about having sex with his sister nearby – but by the time they finally make it back to Octavia and Lincoln’s apartment, Clarke’s more turned on than she’s been in a long time. Judging by the dark look Bellamy gives her after he helps her off with her jacket and she innocently leans back against him to get her boots off without falling over, he’s on the same page and she’s almost positive his resolve has already cracked.

“Right, we’re off to bed, night,” Octavia mumbles through a yawn. Lincoln offers them a smile before leading her in the direction of their bedroom.

Clarke feels Bellamy’s hand close around her wrist and willingly follows him in the other direction towards the guest room.

She barely has time to react after he’s closed the door behind them, before he pushes her up against the wall and covers her lips with his.

She moans into the kiss and he immediately deepens it, his hands sliding up her thighs to push her dress up.

“You know how hot you look tonight, Princess?” he murmurs in her ear before kissing his way down her throat.

“Why don’t you show me?” she retorts with a hint of a dare in her voice, and he pulls away to give her a look with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah?” He lifts her up so she can wrap her legs around him before grinding his hips against hers, making it more than obvious that he’s already hard under his jeans. “You mean like that?”

She doesn’t respond, just pulls him in for another kiss.

It’s heated but sloppy, both of them still slightly buzzed from the alcohol, and when Bellamy pushes the straps of her dress down her arms, so it ends up in a sort of roll around her waist, they both start giggling.

Once she’s stopped laughing, Clarke pushes against his chest to get him to let her down, and he reluctantly takes a step back to let her slide down onto the floor. He brightens when she quickly steps out of the dress, though, and by the time she’s stripped off her tights, he’s already down to his own underwear.

His eyes rake over her for a long moment before he hooks a finger in the waistband of her panties and pulls her closer.

She comes willingly, following him as he backs towards the bed slowly and climbing into his lap when he sits down on the edge.

“You do know Octavia’s still down the hall,” she points out when she feels his hand on the clasp of her bra. Maybe she should just go with it, but A) she doesn’t want him to remember in a few minutes and stop right when she’s ready to combust and B) he was pretty adamant about it a few days ago and she doesn’t want him to freak out about it in the morning.

“I know,” Bellamy assures her, leaning down to place a kiss just above her nipple once her bra’s out of the way. “But you’re right, she’s all the way on the other side of the apartment. Plus, she’s an adult, and she probably already thinks we’re having sex in here, so why not?”

Clarke laughs at that, a bit more high pitched than normally, trailing off into a gasp when his mouth closes around her nipple and his hand slips into her panties to slide along her slit. “You couldn’t have figured that out sooner?”

He chuckles against her breast before letting his teeth graze her nipple and pushing one finger inside her. “Better late than never… also, I might be just a tiny bit drunk.”

“Oh yeah?” She makes a conscious effort to focus, despite the delicious feeling of his finger inside her. “Then maybe I shouldn’t take advantage of you in your vulnerable state.”

She almost objects when his mouth abandons her breast and his finger slips out of her, but then she’s flat on her back and he’s kneeling above her, pushing her panties down her hips.

“Not that drunk, Princess,” he assures her as he settles between her legs, the head of his dick just barely brushing her curls.

“If you’re sure,” she says, arching her hips against him. “As long as you’re not about to back out, because if you do, I will kill you.”

He lets out a huff of a laugh at that before leaning down to kiss her. A moment later, she feels his hand slide down her side and across her hip and then he’s slowly inching inside her, and really, nobody can blame her if all rational thought flies out the window after that.

Still, when her orgasm washes over her some time later, she does bite her lip to keep from alerting their hosts to their activity.

It’s only polite.

-100-

To Clarke’s surprise, she wakes up of her own accord the next day. The blinds are closed, but the faint light that still makes it into the room tells her it must be pretty late in the morning.

She rolls over to find Bellamy’s side of the bed empty and a glass of water along with some painkillers on the bedside table. Her head is pounding a little, so she swallows them down and drains the glass before getting out of bed and pulling on some clothes.

She finds her purse on the dresser and checks her phone before leaving the room. 10:23.

The apartment almost seems empty when she opens the door, no sound alerting her to where the others might be. A few steps down the hallway, though, low voices from the kitchen reach her and she heads in that direction.

“Morning,” she greets from the doorway, and two Blake heads snap up at the sound.

Octavia’s leaning against the kitchen counter, facing the door and looking much too chipper considering how much she had to drink last night. Bellamy’s back is to Clarke, but she can tell that he tenses a little at her voice.

“Morning,” Octavia replies with a dazzling smile. “Did you sleep OK?”

Clarke keeps her eyes on Bellamy, though, who shifts a little before turning to face her, an almost natural smile on his face. “Morning, Princess.”

“Morning,” she replies, convinced that she must have interrupted some sort of private conversation. “And I slept fine, thank you.”

“Not too hung over?” Octavia asks, turning to the oven and pushing a couple of buttons. “Lincoln made his famous hangover breakfast before he left, we were just waiting for you to get up.”

“A bit of a headache but nothing too bad,” Clarke tells her. “But food sounds good.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bellamy says, moving towards her. “Bathroom.”

He presses a kiss to her temple as he passes her and then he’s gone. Clarke frowns as she focuses on Octavia again. “Is everything OK?” she asks.

Octavia looks up at her with a confused expression that only looks a little fake. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

Clarke shrugs. “I kind of feel like I just interrupted something.”

“No, you didn’t,” the younger Blake assures her. “We were just talking, you know, taking a trip down memory lane… Bell got a little emotional, I think he just needed a moment.”

That could be it, she supposes… “OK. Can I help you with anything?”

“Nope,” Octavia says, popping the P. “This just needs to be heated up for ten minutes or so and we’ll be good to go. Sit.”

So she does, watching Octavia set the table. When Bellamy returns a few minutes later, he looks completely normal and joins her at the table while his sister grabs juice and some other stuff from the fridge.

Lincoln’s hangover breakfast turns out to be pancakes, bacon and French toast, and Clarke eats until she can’t get another bite down.

Luckily, they don’t have anything booked in today – maybe because Octavia was planning last night’s pub crawl all along – so they just lounge around, watching a _QI_ marathon until Lincoln gets home mid-afternoon, at which point they order pizza and watch some more TV.

Monday is another beautiful, sunny day, in stark contrast to Bellamy’s mood. He tries not to show it too much, but Clarke knows him by now and can tell that he’s not looking forward to leaving his sister. Maybe she should have planned for a longer stay, but then that might have been even worse.

“You OK?” she asks as they pack the last things before heading to the airport.

He sighs. “Yeah. I just… I want more time with her.”

“We don’t have to leave yet,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. “Edinburgh and Glasgow were my things, we can stay here for another week and then fly straight to London, if you want.”

He immediately shakes his head. “No. I want to go, I want to see those places too. I’m just…”

“I know,” she assures him when he trails off.

He nods once, zipping his backpack and standing up straight. “Right, let’s get going before I change my mind.”

The drive to the airport is mostly silent, Octavia probably picking up on Bellamy’s mood too. She parks the car and goes with them into the terminal, waiting while they check in and drop their bags off and then following them to security.

They stop a little to the side, out of the way, and Bellamy pulls his sister into a tight hug that she returns just as fiercely. Clarke tries not to eavesdrop, but she’s right there so she can’t really help it.

“Love you, O. I’m so proud of you, you’ve grown into an amazing woman, OK? I just want you to know that.”

Octavia chuckles a little, but the sound is slightly watery. “This isn’t goodbye, big brother,” she assures him. “You’re both welcome back whenever you want. Besides, I haven’t been back in the States in years, and don’t even get me started on New York… maybe it’s time to make the trip.”

“I’d like that.”

They cling to each other for another few minutes, before Octavia finally pulls away and pulls Clarke into a hug as well.

“It’s been so wonderful getting to know you,” Octavia says quietly. “Thank you for… everything, really.”

“I’ve enjoyed getting to know you too,” Clarke replies. “And thank you.”

Octavia’s arms tighten around her for a moment before she pulls away. “Take care of him, OK?”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, O,” Bellamy complains, but Clarke just nods, a silent understanding passing between her and Octavia.

“OK, I’m going to go before I really do start crying,” Octavia announces. “Have a safe flight and enjoy… everything you’re doing. I’ve already friended Clarke on Facebook, so I expect daily updates with fabulous photos, OK?”

Clarke laughs and tells her that they’ll do their best, and then she’s gone.

Bellamy doesn’t move for a long moment, staring after his sister until she must have left the airport area altogether.

“Come on,” Clarke finally says, interlacing their fingers and pulling him along towards the queue to security.

He’s quiet as they wait, as they place their bags and things into the trays, as they go through the scanners… once they’re at their gate, with half an hour until boarding, he clears his throat.

“Can you promise me something?” he asks, voice earnest. Clarke hesitates, not knowing what he might say and not wanting to promise something she won’t be able or willing to do. “It’s nothing bad,” he continues when he sees her frown, reading her mind.

“OK.”

“Just… will you keep an eye on her?” he says. “When I’m… will you make sure she’s doing OK?”

It’s not a hard promise, since she’s already made it to herself before he even brought it up. “Of course.”

Bellamy reaches out to take her hand in his. “Thank you.”

“You know…” she starts, moving a little so she can lean her head against his shoulder. “You could see her again. I mean, she seemed open to coming to New York and I’m sure she gets some vacation time in the summer, we could see if they want to spend a couple of days in the city when we get back.”

She knows they’ve already discussed Octavia not being there when the time comes, but her being in New York should be fine.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees, eyes shifting to the floor and brow furrowing, as if he’s thinking hard about something. Clarke just squeezes his hand again and lets him be.

-100-

Edinburgh is much as Clarke remembers from the last time she was here. Which isn’t odd, since that was just a couple of years ago during a visit to Wells and Sasha. That’s the downside of living as long as she has, she supposes – things get jumbled in her mind sometimes.

Bellamy was mostly quiet during the short flight, eyes trained on the window beside him, but as they get closer to the city center, his mood seems to lift.

“I can see why you like this place,” he notes when the cab has dropped them off at the hotel on Castle Street. He turns in a slow circle, taking in the buildings lining the street, most of them in the distinct sandstone of the area, turned greyish with time and wear, and finally the castle on its hill in the distance. “If it weren’t for the cars it would almost be like stepping back in time.”

“Wait until you see the Royal Mile,” she tells him with a smile.

It’s already darkening out when they’ve checked in and dropped their bags off in their room, so they decide that checking out the area around the hotel and getting something to eat will have to do for now.

The next two days are spent exploring Edinburgh. Showing Bellamy her favorite spots gives Clarke a new view of the city and makes her fall in love with it all over again, through his eyes.

“This is so cool,” he breathes in her ear when they follow their guide around tight corners in Mary King’s Close, a small alleyway under new buildings along the Royal Mile that has been preserved as a historical site.

“It really is,” she agrees, just as fascinated as him – she’s heard about this place but never visited it before.

Another high-point is the castle, with all its exhibitions, artefacts and rooms. After the visit, they wander up the Royal Mile to Holyrood Abbey at the other end of the long street, admiring the numerous old buildings and churches along the way.

On Thursday, they pick up their rental car early in the morning and set off out into the Scottish countryside, having decided a little last minute the night before to take a really long detour passing Loch Ness on their way to Glasgow.

“Come on, what if it’s in the paper tomorrow that someone finally spotted the Loch Ness monster,” was Bellamy’s argument. “You’ll be sorry we didn’t go then.”

“You know that’s not going to happen, right?” Clarke replied, rolling her eyes.

He just shrugged. “I’d still like to see it.”

She squeezed his hand. “That’s all you had to say.”

So around noon, Clarke turns into the parking area at Urquhart Castle. The day is cold and while it did snow at one point during the drive, the ground here is bare. They decide not to go into the castle itself, instead wandering around the area and down to the water.

“See?” Clarke says, kicking at a stone. “No monster.”

“And what do you call that?” Bellamy replies.

She looks where he’s pointing and snorts. “That’s a log.”

“OK, fine… what about that?”

She looks again before giving him a questioning look. “You mean the duck?”

He pokes her in the ribs and she takes a step to the side to get out of his reach. “If you want to have absolutely no imagination, I guess.”

They grab some lunch at the visitor’s center, and then take the slightly longer route from the lake, to avoid going back the way they came and take the opportunity to see some more of the striking Scottish landscape. They’re technically in the Highlands, and all around them, heaths, lochs and hills stretch in all directions. Even now, in winter, with little to no vegetation, it’s an impressive sight.

The first twenty miles or so, the road follows Loch Ness and Bellamy entertains himself – and Clarke – by claiming to spot Nessie every couple of minutes, describing everything from a boat to some large birds bobbing on the water. When they leave the loch behind, he switches to trying to pronounce all the towns they pass as badly as possible, and by the time they get to Druimarben, she has some trouble focusing on the road because she’s laughing so hard.

It’s after six when they finally reach Glasgow, and Clarke just collapses face first on the bed when they get to their room, not even bothering to check out the view over a lit up George Square.

“Tired?” Bellamy asks, and she hears him move around the room before the door to the bathroom opens and closes.

“Mmm,” she hums affirmatively. “Don’t know why driving is so mentally draining.”

The bed dips when he sits down next to her and he slides a hand into her hair, rubbing her scalp. “You should have said something, I could have taken over for a while.”

She makes an effort to roll over onto her back without dislodging his hand and looks up at him. “On the wrong side of the road _and_ the car?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” he replies with a shrug. “How long is the drive to London, like seven hours? Let me do some of the driving for that one.”

She considers it for a moment. Most of the time they’ll be on the M6, and the rental’s an automatic, so it should be fine. “OK, if you feel up for it you can drive for a while. It’s mostly highway, so no oncoming traffic. We’ll just pull over at a rest stop or something and switch.”

His fingers slide out of her hair to push a few strands out of her face instead and she leans into the touch. “Good. Now, how about we go grab some dinner and then call it a night? Keeping an eye out for Nessie was surprisingly tiresome too.”

Clarke can’t help but laugh at that and pushes herself to her feet.

They end up at an Italian restaurant just across the square, and somehow, she gets some energy back from the delicious Calabrian chicken, so they stroll around a little on the way back to the hotel, checking out the square and the streets around it a little more.

Friday morning, they take their time in the on-site restaurant, really enjoying the delicious Scottish breakfast, before they leave the hotel for a day on the town. The weather’s not exactly ideal for sightseeing, the sky cloudy and threatening rain, even if it’s not raining now, but they still decide to set out for their first stop, the cathedral, on foot.

The church itself doesn’t take too long to explore, but they continue to the museum next door and then stroll around the Necropolis, the old cemetery, behind the cathedral, for a couple of hours. Apart from the fascinating old tombstones – yes, Clarke likes visiting old graveyards and reading names and dates, she knows it’s a little weird – the spot offers an amazing view of the city below.

When their stomachs start rumbling, they head off back towards the city center for some lunch and a bit more exploring in daylight.

Saturday is still rainy, and after breakfast they take an Uber to the Kelvingrove Museum. It’s a fascinating place that Clarke has been to a couple of times before, but she’s always just as amazed by the many exhibitions. Bellamy’s eyes widen as soon as they step into the entrance hall and she can’t help but smile – there’s so much more to see.

“Come on,” she says, tugging him along into the first exhibition hall.

It would probably take days to look at every single item in the museum, which they don’t have, but they spend a good four hours slowly advancing through the grand halls, up and down the stairs, through door after door.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Bellamy says when they finally leave, to find that the rain has let up, even if the skies are still a steely grey.

“Yeah, it’s definitely one of my favorite museums,” she agrees. “Do you want to head back to the hotel, or are you up for a bit of a walk?”

He happily agrees to a walk, so they set out through the park surrounding the museum, taking a detour before they reach the other end, up a path and some stairs that lead them to the University of Glasgow. The late nineteenth century building could be taken from one of the Harry Potter movies, in Clarke’s opinion – all towers and pinnacles, leaded windows and parapets.

“So did you enjoy my little detour?” she asks when they’re in bed later that night, both on their backs still catching their breaths from their previous activities.

“Of course,” Bellamy assures her. “If I had known there were so many amazing historical places here, I would have put it on the list myself.”

She rolls onto her side so she can cuddle up to him and his arm goes around her waist. “Good, I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	28. London Calling to the Faraway Towns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re continuing through Great Britain – next stop London! Another of my favorite cities… Also reconnecting with some old friends, and we get a little more info on Soul Keepers
> 
> As always, I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from (obviously?) “London Calling” by The Clash

They get an early start on Sunday, just grabbing some breakfast before checking out of the hotel and hitting the road, Clarke behind the wheel to maneuver them out of the city and onto the M6. Once they’re on the highway, though, they take turns driving, switching at rest stops. Bellamy is a little tense the first few minutes he’s behind the wheel, but seems to get used to it pretty quickly.

It’s the weekend, so there’s more traffic than there was during their drive from Edinburgh to Glasgow, but they still make good time. Even with a couple of bathroom stops and a longer stop for food somewhere a few miles after the greater Liverpool-Manchester area, it’s not quite two in the afternoon when Clarke spots the first sign for Stratford.

“Hey…” she starts, unlocking her phone and opening Google Maps. “You want to make a quick stop in Stratford-upon-Avon? You know, where Shakespeare was born?”

Bellamy’s driving but glances at her at the question. “We have time for that?”

“It should be fine,” she assures him, checking the time the app says it should take from there to Wells and Sasha’s place in Notting Hill. “It’s only another two hours to London, if we spend an hour or so here we should still arrive by seven, even if the traffic’s horrible the last bit. Wells promised to make sure there’s food if we give him a heads-up before we get there, and we don’t have anything else planned tonight. Or we’ll be passing Oxford a little further on, if you’d rather stop there.”

“No, I think Stratford would be more interesting,” he decides. “So am I getting off soon?”

“Not for a while, just stay in the left lane, maybe there’s a rest stop where we can switch before the exit.”

There isn’t, but Bellamy handles the turn-off and subsequent roundabouts fine, only pulling into a driveway on the side of the road when they get onto the narrower A439.

“Maybe we’d better switch before I turn into oncoming traffic,” he suggests, giving her a sheepish look.

Clarke laughs a little at that. “Sure.”

She’s not sure when she was in Stratford last – she does have a vague memory of having visited Shakespeare’s birth place at some point with Wells, probably when they lived in London back in the fifties and early sixties, and wants to say that there were a lot of half-timber cottages with thatched roofs, but honestly, that could describe any village in the British countryside at the time. Besides, the town has probably changed since then, so she sets the satnav to a public parking lot in the center of town before she pulls onto the road again.

It turns out her memory is pretty spot on. While some of the houses lining the pedestrian street in the middle of town look new-ish, there are still a lot of half-timbered buildings, though most of the roofs are tile these days.

They stop outside the old building where William Shakespeare was born and raised, but decide against going inside, since they don’t know how long the tour might take and they want to get going soon again. Continuing down the street, they stop for a coffee before returning the way they came. Outside the coffee shop are two old-fashioned red phone booths, and Bellamy refuses to keep going until Clarke takes a photo of him in one of them.

“There’ll be a lot of these in London too, you know,” she tries to tell him, but he’s adamant, so she gives in.

The traffic picks up a little as they get closer to London, and when the satnav says they have half an hour left, Clarke calls Wells.

_“Hello?”_ his voice echoes in the car.

“Hey, Wells.”

_“Hi, you getting close?”_

She glances at the satnav. “The system says twenty-eight minutes, but there’s some traffic, so probably make that forty-five minutes to an hour, at least.”

_“Anything in particular you’re in the mood for your first night in London, or will Sasha’s cooking do?”_

She considers for a moment. “Think she can make her chicken enchilada casserole?” She glances at Bellamy. “It is so good.”

Wells chuckles over the line. _“She did pick up the ingredients for that earlier, so you’re in luck.”_

“Yes! How’s parking looking?”

_“The driveway’s available for you guys, I moved the car to the street earlier.”_

“Great, see you in anywhere between half an hour and, I don’t know, two hours then. You never know with London traffic.”

_“Drive safe.”_

They continue on their way and soon enough turn off the highway and onto Holland Park Avenue. Clarke knows the way, of course, but she leaves the satnav on anyway, so when she takes a left before the system wants her to, it of course objects to the detour.

“You made the satnav lady angry,” Bellamy notes amusedly, reaching out to turn it off. “I’m guessing you have a reason?”

“There’s usually a lot of traffic on Ladbroke Grove,” she tells him. “This way’s a little longer, but it’s almost always faster.” He hums in agreement and within minutes, she’s pulling into the off street parking space in front of Wells and Sasha’s house. “Here we are.”

Bellamy gets out of the car and looks around. “I feel like I’m in _Notting Hill_ ,” he notes.

“You are,” she tells him with a frown.

“No, I know. I meant the movie.”

“Oh. Well, one of the houses further up this street was used for exterior shots, I’m pretty sure,” she says. “And there are those little private gardens all over the place. Wells should have the key to the one behind this house, remind me to ask him so we can take a look at some point. Unless you want the full movie experience and prefer climbing the wall?”

“Key’s fine, thanks.”

Clarke freezes in the middle of reaching out to grab her bag from the trunk of the car. “Hang on… _you’ve_ seen _Notting Hill_?”

He sighs. “Not voluntarily. O had a Hugh Grant phase when she was, like, twelve,” he explains. “I don’t know how many times I saw that damn movie, it was her favorite.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she teases with a laugh. “So you want to go looking for the blue door?”

He gives her a withering look. “Funny.”

She grabs her bag, slamming the trunk closed and looping her arm through Bellamy’s. “Don’t worry,” she assures him. “It’s not actually there, anyway.”

He groans but lets her pull him along towards the front door.

Wells opens before she can even knock, a big smile on his face.

“Welcome!” he exclaims, stepping aside and waving them into the hallway. “Let me take those.” Clarke hands over her bag and he grabs Bellamy’s too before heading towards the stairs. “Sasha’s in the kitchen, you know where it is. I’ll just put these in your regular room.”

She offers him a smile. “Thanks, Wells.” She opens the door to the hallway closet and they both hang their jackets up and remove their shoes before venturing further into the house.

“This is… not what I was expecting,” Bellamy notes quietly.

“No? What were you expecting?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, more traditional, I guess. Maybe dark wainscoting, heavy velvet curtains, winged leather armchairs…”

She can’t help but laugh. “You just described Wells’ office to a T. But the rest of the house is mostly Sasha.”

Which means light base colors, minimalistic décor but large, comfy furniture and plenty of details in bold accent colors.

“Did I hear my name?” the woman in question asks as they turn into the huge kitchen, which is open to the living room that runs along the entire back of the house. “Hi, guys!”

She comes to greet them in the middle of the room, giving Clarke a tight hug before pulling a slightly surprised Bellamy into one as well.

“Hi, Sash, it’s good to be here,” Clarke says when the hugs are done. “And the food smells amazing, as usual.”

Sasha bends down to check the oven. “It should be another ten minutes. Come on, I have wine – I assume you need it after a day on the road!”

By the time Wells comes into the kitchen, all three of them are seated at the large table with glasses of chardonnay in front of them.

“So, Bellamy…” he starts when he’s grabbed himself a glass and joined them. “Have you gotten over the shock of finding out about Soul Keepers yet?”

Clarke almost chokes on her wine, but Bellamy just chuckles. “I think so. The dying thing might take a little longer though… not that I _have_ that much time to get used to it.” Everyone goes silent for a long moment before he continues. “Come on, it was just a joke, guys!”

Wells and Sasha start laughing, sounding a little relieved, and Clarke tries to join in, but it feels hollow, and she knows she’s a little distracted the rest of the evening.

Which Bellamy of course notices. “What’s wrong, Princess?” he asks as they climb the stairs later. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

She shrugs. “It’s nothing, just… I don’t really like it when you… talk about it.”

He looks confused for a moment but then he grimaces. “Sorry, I should have thought about that. I really was just joking.”

“I know.” She gives him a smile she hopes will assure him that she’s OK and changes the topic. “So what did you think of Sasha’s food? Amazing, right?”

He gives her a long look but doesn’t call her out on her obvious subject change. “It really was, yeah.”

Still, when Bellamy’s fast asleep a little later, Clarke stays awake next to him, trying and failing to push his words out of her mind.

It takes a long time before she finally succumbs to sleep.

-100-

London isn’t quite as intense as Dublin was, possibly because Wells hasn’t planned anything for them and both he and Sasha are working – they both do volunteer work, Wells at an animal sanctuary and Sasha at a sort of group home for teenagers who have gotten into trouble or just need a safe place for whatever reason. They’re taking some time off to go with Clarke and Bellamy on their two-day-trip down to Devon, but for now, they’re on their own.

On Monday morning, they all have breakfast together before Sasha leaves for a Transfer, Wells for the shelter, and Clarke and Bellamy for their first day of sightseeing in London.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Bellamy asks as they enter Holland Park subway station.

“We’re starting at the Tower,” she tells him. He knows everything they’re doing, but he hasn’t wanted to look at the actual itinerary since he thinks it takes some of the fun out of traveling.

“Nice."

She’s not sure ‘nice’ is the word she’d use to describe the Tower. She’s visited before, while she lived here back in the fifties, and gruesome might be a better description, especially when you think about all the horrible things that have happened there over the centuries.

She watches Bellamy more than she watches the different exhibits, enjoying the way his eyes light up at a particularly interesting piece of historical information.

After a couple of hours in the fortress, they cross Tower Bridge, climbing up to the shielded walkway to admire the views of the city from there, before setting out along the south bank of the Thames.

They pass The Shard in the distance, but decide against its viewing platform in favor of taking a tour in the London Eye later, hoping that the clouds that are gathering at the horizon won’t result in rain. They do stop at the Globe theatre, though, just checking out the exterior and the areas inside that are free to visit.

Clarke had estimated three hours at the Tower, so since they’re making good time, they take a brief detour across Millennium Bridge to check out St. Paul’s Cathedral before getting back on track. They grab some lunch before they reach the London Eye and don’t have to wait too long to climb aboard one of the pods.

“So, what do you think of London so far?” she asks while they’re moving slowly towards the top of the wheel, the city in question spreading out underneath them.

There are only two more people in their pod, a Japanese couple in their fifties or so, chattering animatedly about what they’re seeing and snapping photo after photo with their phones. Bellamy has Raven’s camera raised and has taken a couple of pictures, but seems to prefer watching the view.

“So far, I get why you love it,” he replies, giving her a smile. “I didn’t really see London as a historic destination, to be honest, it was more… I wanted to go here, experience the city, see the Tower, of course, Buckingham Palace… but I could probably keep myself busy for weeks, maybe even months, just exploring the different sites with historical value around the city.”

She understands what he means, she thinks – at first glance, London is like any other bustling, modern city with millions of inhabitants, but as soon as you scratch the surface, you find so much more, layers and layers of history stretching all the way back to the Romans. They actually passed a part of the old Roman city wall on their walk from the tube to the Tower earlier, and they’ll be checking out both an old Roman amphitheater and a temple that Clarke didn’t even know existed while they’re here.

She desperately wants to tell him that he’ll be able to explore all he wants, but she knows it would be a lie. They only have a week here, and she knows they won’t be back. There’s not time for that.

Almost like Bellamy’s read her mind, he comes over to where she’s sitting on the bench in the middle and joins her, pulling her against his side. “Stop thinking so much,” he murmurs in her ear. “Let’s just enjoy this, make the most of the days we have in the city, OK? That was your idea, remember?”

Clarke nods, swallowing down the lump in her throat and putting on a smile. “Of course.”

They take a silly selfie at the top of the wheel, for Raven’s benefit, and then continue gazing out over London on the way down. Bellamy keeps whispering silly made up stories about different buildings they see, making her laugh out loud and startle their Japanese companions, and by the time they leave the pod again, she’s managed to push the sad thoughts away.

For the moment.

They set out along the river once more, climbing the stairs up to Westminster Bridge a few minutes later and crossing the Thames for the second time. Big Ben is wrapped in scaffolding and barely visible, but they do have a nice view of the Houses of Parliament, and Bellamy pauses to take some more pictures.

Soon after, they reach their third stop of the day – Churchill’s War Rooms, a museum housed in underground facilities used by the British government during the Second World War. This is new to Clarke as well, since it didn’t open until two decades after she left London, and she hasn’t gotten around to visiting during any of her trips since. She did experience the war, at least from the American side, so she honestly hasn’t really felt a need to.

It’s interesting, though, she has to admit. Even if the best part is watching Bellamy take in the different displays behind glass walls, the map room, the war cabinet room…

It’s a little after three when they emerge into the fresh air again, and Clarke pauses on the street. She doesn’t really have anything else planned today, but they’re close to Westminster Abbey.

“Do you want to check out Westminster while we’re here?” she asks, giving Bellamy a questioning look. “They close at three thirty today, so we should probably get a move on if you do.”

He just chuckles and grabs her by the hands. “Stop. Breathe. Slow down, OK? We don’t have to hurry, I’m not that interested in going inside, it’s enough to just have a look from the outside.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“OK.” She frowns. “Are you tired? Do you want to take the tube back, or we could get an Uber?”

He hasn’t shown any signs of being tired, but they have been basically walking for the past six hours, so it wouldn’t surprise her. Now that they’re standing still, she can feel her feet aching a little.

“I’m fine, Princess, don’t worry,” he assures her with a smile though. “It’s not even dark yet, is there anything else you want to do in this area?”

She considers that for a moment. “Well, Buckingham Palace is pretty close by.”

“Great. Let’s check that out, and then…how far would it be to walk back to Wells and Sasha’s place?”

Clarke’s not completely sure, so she pulls out her phone and opens her maps. “Google says around an hour and fifteen minutes, so pretty far.”

He leans in to be able to see the little map too. “I don’t mind. And look, we’d be going through Hyde Park, I want to check that out anyway. And Kensington Gardens, if we take just a little detour we can cover Kensington Palace as well. What do you say?”

She doesn’t really have to think about it, she loves strolling through Hyde Park, and this way they’re clearing up all of Sunday, which she had put down for checking out both Buckingham Palace and the parks.

“I say that sounds like a plan.”

So they head off, but instead of going back out to Birdcage Walk, they cross Horse Guards Road and enter St James’s Park.

Buckingham Palace is much like Clarke remembers it – the black, cast iron fence with gilded spikes surrounding the huge building and the Victoria Memorial overlooking the area.

After admiring the palace for a bit, they continue up Constitutional Hill, past Wellington Arch, entering Hyde Park through the gate at Apsley House.

It’s been a while since Clarke’s visited London at this time of the year – she prefers spring, when the trees in the park break out in pretty flowers and the sun starts warming up the city. It’s beautiful like this too, though. All traces of the park’s Christmas attraction, Winter Wonderland, are gone by now, but the sun, weak as it is, is shining down on them, lighting their path. They follow The Serpentine and then The Long Water, passing the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, before taking a sharp left towards Kensington Palace.

By the time they finally turn onto Lansdowne Road again, it’s dark, the first stars already appearing overhead.

“You only now getting back?” Wells asks with a raised eyebrow when they find him in the living room.

“Yup,” Clarke confirms, flopping down next to him on the couch. “Long day.”

Bellamy just chuckles as he continues into the kitchen. “You’d think we’ve been hiking a mountain or something,” he teases. “It was just walking. Anybody want something to drink?”

“Grab me a beer, thanks,” Wells calls back, giving Clarke an amused look which she rolls her eyes at.

“Me too!”

They order Indian for dinner – because Clarke is still of the firm opinion that Indian food is best in London, she has yet to find a restaurant in the tri-state area that do chicken tikka masala half as well as any of her favorite places in London – and basically just lounge around in front of the TV for the rest of the night.

Tuesday, they wake up to rain pounding violently against the windows, and instead of catching the tube, like Clarke had planned, she and Bellamy get a ride from Wells to the Sherlock Holmes Museum. They spend an hour or so exploring the home of the fictional detective, during which the downpour luckily lets up. The sky is still an angry shade of grey, but they get to Madame Tussauds dry, and that’s really all you can ask on a day like this in London, as Clarke knows only too well.

They spend longer in the wax museum, before catching the tube from Baker Street to King’s Cross, to check out Platform 9 ¾ and the Harry Potter Shop. They embrace the tourist aspect of it all and snap photos of each other with the luggage trolley embedded in the wall under a sign for the platform, before leaving the station for some lunch.

Once they’re both completely stuffed, they wind their way down to Oxford Street, passing the British Museum, where Bellamy lingers longingly.

“Don’t worry,” Clarke assures him. “I wouldn’t take you to London and make you miss the British Museum. We’ll have all day here on Friday.”

His eyes light up at that and he willingly lets her tug him along again, and soon they’re in the middle of the hustle and bustle of London’s main shopping street.

They’re not really here to shop, of course, so they just stroll along, Clarke people watching and Bellamy admiring the varied architecture.

They’ve just turned onto Poland Street – on their way to the area around Carnaby Street, which Clarke loves – when they meet another Soul Keeper. It’s not someone Clarke recognizes, but she nods at him almost out of habit, getting a half-smile and a nod in return.

“Did you know that guy?” Bellamy asks, turning to glance at the man over his shoulder. “I mean, nobody we’ve met so far has greeted us in any way, so I’m guessing it’s not a London thing.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, no, he was another Soul Keeper, it’s sort of expected that we at least acknowledge each other when we run into each other,” she explains.

“How do you know he’s a Keeper?” Bellamy continues with a frown.

“No Number.”

He just stares at her for a moment before realization dawns on him. “Of course, since you guys are technically immortal, you don’t have Numbers.”

“Nope,” she confirms.

“So how many Soul Keeper do you think there are in London?”

Clarke considers the question for a moment as they cross Great Marlborough Street. “Well, when I lived here back in the fifties, there were about a hundred and twenty, I think. The population has grown since then, but I’m not sure the death rate has changed much, so I would guess somewhere between a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fifty, probably.”

He takes in the information in silence for a moment. “I honestly don’t know what I was expecting, so I can’t say if I think that sounds like a lot or not. How many are there in New York?”

“Right now, there are a little over a hundred,” she tells him. “In general, the number of Keepers in a specific city or area relates directly to the number of deaths in a year. We’re expected to do on average two Transfers per day, though of course that varies a lot, some days you might have three or four, and others you don’t have any at all. So for every seven hundred deaths or so in a year, there’s one Keeper.”

“What about really small towns?”

“In that case, you’re assigned more than the town in question. When I lived in Clovelly, which only has a few hundred inhabitants, I had the whole county of Devon, along with three other Keepers.”

“Oh.” Bellamy nods thoughtfully. “Is the county large?”

“Not huge, but I did do a lot of driving during my years there.”

“Huh.” With that, he lets the topic go and turns his attention back to their surroundings – they’ve just reached Carnaby Street with its beautiful half-timbered houses and stroll around aimlessly for a while, before eventually finding their way to Regent Street and then Oxford Circus.

At New Bond Street, Clarke once again takes a left, and a few minutes later, they find themselves looking up at Claridge’s impressive façade.

“A hotel, Princess?” Bellamy asks amusedly. “You know, if you’re… in the mood, we can just head back to the house.”

She punches him in the arm for that comment. “Please, if I wanted to have my way with you I wouldn’t pick a hotel with rates that start at over a thousand pounds.”

He abruptly stops chuckling. “Per _night_?”

“Per hour,” she replies with a wink, stepping through the door when the doorman holds it open for them.

“I’m going to assume you’re joking about that one,” Bellamy says quietly, following her into the hotel.

It’s been ages since Clarke had afternoon tea at Claridge’s, but as soon as their selection is placed on the table in front of them, she remembers why the hotel gets the ‘best afternoon tea in London’ award year after year.

“God, I know we were talking about Chinese food tonight,” Bellamy says as they leave the hotel some time later, emerging into the now dark street, “but I honestly don’t think I can get anything more down today.”

Clarke loops her arm through his and pulls him along in the right direction, back towards Oxford Street. “I know,” she agrees. “Afternoon tea is deceptively filling.”

It’s almost six by now, and the street has filled with people while they were enjoying their food. Soon enough, though, they reach the park and leave Oxford Street and most of the crowds behind.

It’s a surprisingly nice evening, considering the horrible morning, and as soon as they don’t have to weave between people, they slow to a more leisurely pace – it is a bit of a walk back to Wells and Sasha’s place, after all, and they’re not in any hurry.

They walk mostly in silence, Clarke pointing out something they pass now and then, or Bellamy asking about something he finds interesting.

A sense of calm settles over Clarke as they slowly make their way through Bayswater and then Notting Hill, and she realizes that this is all she wants. She doesn’t need a bunch of sights and attractions – not that she isn’t enjoying showing them to Bellamy and watching the amazement on his face at whatever it is they’re currently checking out – all she needs, all she wants is these quiet moments, the two of them simply enjoying each other’s company.

For as long as she gets to.


	29. Even If the Sun Refused to Shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re staying in the UK for a little longer and heading out into the countryside! I have been to both Stonehenge and Bath, but that was… 22 years ago, jeez, so I can’t say I remember that much… but again, Google Maps is a wonderful thing :)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings
> 
> Chapter title from “Valentine” by Jim Brickman and Martina McBride

Clarke’s secretly glad that Wells and Sasha are going with them down to the coast – it means she doesn’t have to drive. Yes, she’s gotten the hang of being on the left side of the road again, but her instincts are still that she’s on the wrong side, and she has to be on high alert all the time to avoid going with them. Which is probably part of why she was so exhausted after their drive from Edinburgh to Glasgow.

Now, though, she gets to enjoy the trip from the backseat and can focus on pointing out everything interesting they pass to Bellamy.

They set out as soon as they’ve had breakfast on Wednesday morning, and reach Stonehenge with plenty of time to spare for their slot at eleven. They start at the visitor center, where they get some information before being directed to the pick-up place for the shuttle that will take them out to the actual stone circle.

“We can’t get closer than this?” Clarke asks when they get to the roped path that winds its way around the stones. “The last time we were here we could walk among the stones, remember Wells?”

Wells leans in close to her. “You might want to keep your voice down,” he advices quietly. “The stones were roped off in the seventies, to avoid them getting damaged by visitors climbing on them and stuff.”

A middle-aged woman passing them is giving her an odd look, and Clarke quickly looks away. “Oops.”

They follow the path, stopping at the spot where they get closest to the stones to snap some photos.

“I mean…” Bellamy starts, frowning a little at the circle, “it’s cool and all, but I have to admit it’s a little underwhelming.”

Sasha laughs at that. “I know what you mean – the first time Wells and I were here, I had the same reaction. He had been telling me about his previous visit, which I’m guessing Clarke has too.”

Clarke squeezes Bellamy’s arm. “Sorry for giving you unrealistic expectations. I should have done more research when I booked the tickets, but I just assumed it would be the same.”

He presses a kiss to her temple. “Don’t worry about it, it _is_ still a cool experience.”

“Hey…” Wells says, eyes on his phone. “It says here that there’s another stone circle pretty close by. It’s not as well maintained as this one, but you can get closer to the stones, right next to them, in fact.”

Sasha joins him, peaking at the screen over his shoulder. “It’s not that much out of our way,” she says. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes? And then it’s about an hour to Bath, so we can still get there in time for a late lunch and some exploration.”

Clarke looks up at Bellamy, who shrugs to say he’s happy either way, but she can see the excitement in his eyes. “We’re not in any hurry. Clovelly’s not big, we’ll have plenty of time to explore the town tomorrow before heading back to London,” she decides. “Let’s do it.”

They head back to the car with the next shuttle, where Wells plugs their new destination into the satnav, and soon they’re on the narrower A360 en route to Avebury.

“This is more like it,” Bellamy notes half an hour later, when they’ve parked and followed the signs to the stones in the small village. He rests a hand against the rough surface of one of the megaliths, tilting his head back to take the whole thing in.

Clarke quickly grabs her phone and captures the moment, earning a raised eyebrow. “That one’s going on Facebook,” she announces, opening the app to upload it right away.

Bellamy sighs. “Seriously?”

“I promised Octavia I’d keep her posted on our trip, remember?” she tells him as she captions the photo. “And Miller, come to think of it.”

“You and Miller are Facebook friends?”

The image finishes uploading and she puts her phone away again, looping her arm through his. “He wanted to keep up with our trip too, and since you refuse to get an account…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, pulling her along towards the next stone. “He’s been nagging me about it for years, but it’s not like there’s any point in doing it now.”

Ignoring the underlying meaning of his words, Clarke pulls him around to snap a selfie of the two of them with parts of the stone circle behind them. “All the more reason for me to post a bunch of photos,” she says lightly, pleased when he chuckles at that and drops the subject.

By the time they reach Bath, all four of them are hungry enough that their stomachs are rumbling, so as soon as they’ve parked, they find a restaurant. After some wonderful pasta, they stroll around for a couple of hours, checking out what Bath has to offer – the Crescent and assembly rooms, which make them all feel like they’re in a Jane Austen novel, a quick look in the impressive abbey and then, to satisfy Bellamy’s thirst for Roman history, an hour at the Roman baths.

The sun has already set when they get in the car for the final leg of the journey, and not far outside Bath, darkness envelopes them in a soft blanket. It’s been a pretty intense day so far, so Clarke scoots over into the middle seat of the car and leans her head against Bellamy’s shoulder.

She has no intention of falling asleep, but watching the dark countryside pass by the car window must have a soothing effect on her, because suddenly, she’s being shaken awake gently. When she opens her eyes, he’s looking down at her with a soft smile. “We’re here, sleepy head.”

“Mmm… give me a sec.”

He chuckles but gets out of the car when she leans back against the seat and squeezes her eyes shut again, and she stretches as much as she can in the cramped space before following.

It’s already almost nine, so all they really want is to get checked in and crash in bed, but since they haven’t eaten since they got to Bath, they order some sandwiches in the on-site bar. The woman behind the reception desk promises to have them sent up to their rooms as soon as they’re finished.

Clarke knows they have a view of the harbor and sea beyond, but when she and Bellamy get to their room, the windows are dark, only a few bobbing lights visible in the distance, probably on boats off the coast. She drops her bag on the bed and shrugs out of her coat before rummaging around for the sweats she brought to sleep in while Bellamy disappears into the bathroom. Once she’s changed, she just slumps forward onto the bed, burying her face in the soft comforter. A moment later, the bathroom door opens again and a laugh fills the room.

“Will you make it through dinner?” he asks, sitting down by her head and running his fingers through her hair.

She turns her head to be able to respond. “No guarantees.”

He laughs again just as there’s a knock on the door, and Clarke makes an effort to roll onto her back and sit up while he opens the door for the receptionist.

The smell of the sandwiches does perk her up a little, and she joins him at the small table by the window.

“It’s a shame it’s so dark,” he notes, squinting out the window. “I bet the view is amazing.”

“You’ll see in the morning,” she replies, taking a bite out of her sandwich. “Unless this place has changed completely since I lived here, the harbor’s full of little colorful fishing boats that balance on their hulls at low tide and the cottages look like they’ve all been here for hundreds of years. It’s a beautiful village.”

Bellamy nods. “So when do we need to head back to London tomorrow?”

“The drive’s about four hours without any stops,” she replies with a shrug. “So around three, maybe? We don’t have anything planned in the evening, but it’s still nice to not get back too late.”

“So plenty of time to explore, then.”

Clarke can’t help but laugh at that. “Trust me – we don’t need that much time to explore this place.”

“Still, it’s nice to not have to rush.”

By the time they’ve both finished their sandwiches and gotten ready for bed, Clarke has about enough energy left to crawl under the comforter. She sinks into the soft pillows and lets out a long breath. When she feels the bed shift next to her, she rolls onto her side to be able to cuddle closer, throwing one leg over Bellamy’s and wrapping an arm around him.

“Love you,” she mumbles, burying her nose against his throat. She feels his lips against the top of her head.

“Love you too, Princess. Now go to sleep.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice.

-100-

Since they went to bed early, they’re up by a little after seven, while it’s still dark out. Wells and Sasha join them in the restaurant for breakfast only a few minutes after they sit down, and they admire the sunrise as they eat.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Wells asks, finishing off his bacon.

“I figured we’d explore the town and surrounding area for a while, grab some lunch and then head back towards London,” Clarke replies after swallowing the last bite of her scrambled eggs. “I doubt much has changed since we lived here, but the weather’s OK so it’ll be nice to just stroll around the town a little. Plus, it’s low tide for the next four hours or so, so if you’re feeling adventurous, we could check out the beach, I used to love walking along it.”

Everyone agrees with the plan, so after they’ve finished the food, they check out and pack the car before venturing out on the pebbled beach. They follow it for a couple of miles, until the odd stone formation called Blackchurch rock comes into view.

“I’m getting flashbacks to Iceland,” Bellamy notes, coming to a stop a few feet from the large stone arch.

Clarke looks up at the rock face, which is indeed very similar to the cliffs at the Reynisfjara beach. “I see what you mean.”

“Can you walk through it?” he asks, looking between her and the archway.

“Only one way to find out.”

They pick their way carefully along the rocky ground, eventually emerging back on the beach on the other side.

The tide is starting to come in when they get back to the harbor, but the beach is still dry, so they continue past the town to check out the waterfall a few hundred yards in the other direction, and then the lifeboat station on the way back.

As if they haven’t had enough hiking, they then head up High Street, which is so steep it’s actually been terraced into a sort of staircase with very long steps. They check out the Donkey Shop, and then the actual donkeys at the top of the hill, munching away at some hay.

Still, by the time they get back to the inn down by the harbor, where the tide has now come in, it’s only noon.

“Do you guys want to just grab lunch here, or go back up to the tea rooms?” Sasha asks, voice a little too off-hand, checking out the board with the lunch menu outside the inn’s entrance.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Wells replies, glancing back the way they came a minute ago, “but I’m not that keen on trekking back up that hill, so I vote for the inn.”

Bellamy immediately raises his hand. “Seconded.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Clarke agrees, looking between the three of them. She’s not sure why, but it feels like she’s missing something… She pushes the thought away as Wells holds the door to the hotel open for them. It’s probably nothing.

Before they reach the restaurant, though, the receptionist intercepts them. “Ms. Griffin?”

Clarke stops in her tracks. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but there’s a problem in your room,” the woman says with a contrite smile. “Would you mind terribly accompanying me up there so we can have it sorted?”

A problem in their room? Did they forget something? Clarke’s sure that she checked everything before they left the room, but she supposes it’s possible she missed something, even if they barely unpacked. But why wouldn’t the housekeeper just have brought whatever it is down to the reception? She knows they didn’t break or damage anything.

“Sure,” she agrees with a nod, figuring it’s best to just get it over with. “You guys go ahead, I’ll join you in a minute.”

Wells squeezes her hand before he and Sasha disappear through the door to the restaurant, but Bellamy doesn’t move.

“Go on,” she tells him. “I’ll take care of this, whatever it is.”

“I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately.

She considers arguing that there’s no reason for both of them to go, but just as she opens her mouth, he raises an eyebrow and she knows there’s no point.

They follow the receptionist up the stairs to their floor, where she holds the door to their room open for them. Clarke steps through, scanning the room to figure out what might have happened.

Everything looks fine, the bed’s been made and the window is cracked open slightly, letting in some air and the sound of the waves.

And the small table is set with two covered plates as well as a lit candle and a single, red rose in a vase in the center of the table.

“What the…” she starts, snapping her head around when the door closes behind them.

Bellamy gives her a slightly sheepish look. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The way his voice rises a little at the end makes it sound almost like a question and she can’t do anything but stare at him for a long moment.

“It’s…” she then starts, going through their itinerary in her mind and coming to the conclusion that it is, indeed, the fourteenth of February. “I didn’t even remember.”

“I kind of figured.” Bellamy chuckles before going serious again. “You’re not one of those people who think Valentine’s Day is just a commercial holiday designed to sell flowers and chocolate, are you? I mean, I did ask Wells and he thought you would appreciate this, but if you…”

“Hey,” she cuts him off before reaching up for a kiss. “I love this. I can’t believe you managed to pull it off without me figuring it out, though. How did you do that?”

“Well, I had some help,” he admits, leading her over to the table and pulling the chair out for her before sitting down opposite. “I asked Wells to talk to the receptionist last night – thanks for falling asleep in the car, by the way – then the hotel set all of this up after we checked out this morning, and Wells called when we were getting closer so they could get the food ready at the right time.”

Clarke just shakes her head, unable to stop smiling. “Wow.” She lifts the cloche over her plate to reveal baked salmon with roasted potatoes. “This looks delicious.”

He uncovers his plate as well, giving her a hesitant look. “They did offer to do their full Valentine’s menu, with some sort of oysters for starters and homemade ice cream for dessert, but I decided to stick with just the main course, I hope that’s OK?”

“It’s perfect,” she assures him, popping a potato in her mouth. “I’ve never really liked oysters, and it’s a little cold for ice cream.”

Bellamy lets out a relieved breath. “We do have this though,” he says, leaning down to grab something from the floor next to his chair and producing a heart shaped box of chocolates.

“Where did you get that?” she asks incredulously.

“We stopped to get gas while you were asleep in the car yesterday,” he explains. “The gas station didn’t have a huge selection, but they did have this.”

“Well, aren’t you a real romantic?” she says in a teasing voice, and he shrugs.

“I figured it’s our first Valentine’s Day, and, you know…” he trails off, but she knows what he was going to say, of course – that it’s also their _only_ Valentine’s Day together. She refuses to let the thought get her down though, and is relieved when he clears his throat and continues. “I just wanted to do something for you, make the day a little special.”

Clarke reaches over the table to squeeze his hand. “Mission accomplished.”

They have a wonderful lunch, talking and laughing about whatever comes to mind. When they’ve both cleared their plates, Bellamy opens the chocolate box and somehow, they end up feeding the pralines to each other. If it weren’t for the fact that the bed has already been made and it would be only too obvious what they’ve been up to if they leave it in a different state, Clarke’s pretty sure they would have ended up between the sheets.

“Tonight,” Bellamy murmurs in her ear as they leave the room again, his hand trailing down her spine to settle against her lower back and making her stomach swoop, and she knows he must have thought the same thing she just did.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she replies just as quietly, glancing up at him and watching his eyes darken.

They meet Wells and Sasha by the car, both with big smiles on their faces.

“Good surprise?” Wells asks when they reach them.

“Great surprise,” Clarke replies. “But I’m amazed you managed to keep your mouth shut, you’ve always been awful at keeping secrets.”

He rolls his eyes as he unlocks the car. “Maybe I’ve gotten better at it.”

She snorts in response. “Yeah, right.”

To Wells and Sasha, the drive back to London is probably pretty uneventful. To Clarke, though, it’s something of a chicken race where she and Bellamy continuously push the limits of what they can do to turn the other one on without their two friends in the front seat noticing. By the time Wells pulls into the driveway at their house, she’s about ready to pull Bellamy straight up to their room and have her way with him, but it’s only six fifteen. It’s too early to claim to be tired and call it an early night, and though she considers, for just a brief moment, to simply tell Wells and Sasha the truth, she quickly decides against it.

Bellamy disappears into the bathroom as soon as they enter the house, while Sasha heads upstairs and Clarke follows Wells into the living room.

When Bellamy comes into the room a few minutes later, Clarke gives him an innocent look. “You OK, babe?”

His eyes narrow as he slumps down next to her on the couch. “Just fine, Princess, you?”

“Oh, I’m just dandy.”

Wells gives her a confused look and she quickly averts her eyes before she starts blushing. She feels his eyes on her for another moment, then he seems to decide that it’s nothing and turns the TV on to a soccer game.

Sasha comes down the stairs fifteen minutes later, changed into a pretty, red dress with her hair up in a fancy chignon.

“Shouldn’t we get going soon?” she asks, putting on her second earring as she stops in front of Wells. “The Uber will be here any minute.”

“Get going?” Clarke asks.

“Right,” Wells replies. “You guys already did your Valentine’s Day thing, but we actually have reservations at The Ivy at seven thirty.”

“You guys will be OK on your own for a few hours, right?” Sasha adds innocently. Maybe a little too innocently, if her slight smirk when Clarke looks up at her is any indication.

“I think we’ll be just fine,” she says, squeezing Bellamy’s arm. “Right, babe?”

“Of course,” he quickly agrees. “Go, have fun. Don’t worry about us.”

“OK, give me one minute to just change my shirt,” Wells says, hurrying up the stairs.

Sasha shakes her head after him, an amused smile on her face, before turning to face her two guests. “Right, you know where the take out menus are, if you want to order food,” she says. “Or if you want to cook something, just help yourself to whatever you need.”

“We’ll be fine, Sash,” Clarke assures her again.

“I know, I know. Well, we probably won’t be back until at least eleven, so if you’re already in bed by the time we get home…” She winks subtly at Clarke as she says that and Clarke determinedly does not blush. “… I’ll just say goodnight now.”

Wells comes back down the stairs at that moment and Sasha heads into the hallway.

“Bye, guys, have fun,” Clarke calls after them.

Wells sends her a mischievous smile. “You too.”

She rolls her eyes, which he doesn’t see since he turns his back on her to follow Sasha out of the room.

The house is silent for a long minute after the front door has clicked closed behind them.

Then Clarke jumps off the couch and takes off towards the stairs. A moment later, she hears Bellamy’s steps behind her, but she makes it all the way to the second floor and their bedroom before he catches up to her and pushes her up against the door just as she reaches for the door knob.

“What was that, huh?” he says gruffly, breath hot against her ear.

She can’t move much, trapped between his body and the door, but she does push back against him, earning a groan.

“Just thought we should move this somewhere a little more… private,” she replies, gasping when his mouth descends on her throat. “Before things get, you know, out of control.”

He hums against her skin. “You didn’t have a problem with privacy in the car,” he notes, sliding one hand from her hip around to her stomach and under her shirt.

“Me?” she questions, trying to turn her head to be able to look at him, but he’s trailing kisses across her neck to her other shoulder, pushing her hair out of the way as he goes. “You’re the one who was trying to drive me crazy.”

Kind of like he is now, she adds silently as his hand travels north, his thumb brushing the bottom of her breast through her bra. She leans her head back against his shoulder, giving his wandering lips better access, and lets out a breath.

Bellamy chuckles before biting her shoulder lightly through the material of her shirt. “I was just following your lead, Princess.”

And yeah, OK, maybe she was the one who started getting a little handsy in the car. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her admit that, though, instead focusing on the feel of his body pressed against hers, his mouth on her throat. He moves his hand to cover her beast through the bra for a moment before pushing the material out of the way so he can twirl her nipple between his fingers, and Clarke lets out a low whine at that.

A moment later, his other hand slides down her side and around to dip into her jeans, and yeah, she’s done being the passive party in this. Fumbling around a little, she finds the door knob and twists it, making them both stumble forward into the room.

She takes the opportunity to turn around, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him down while sliding her other hand under his shirt, finally finding bare skin. She absentmindedly notes the sound of the door closing behind him and then feels his hands on the button on her jeans. He gets it undone deftly and slides the zipper down as well before continuing in his earlier venture and pushing one hand into her underwear, just cupping her sex for a moment before sliding one rough finger inside her.

She has to break the kiss to pull in air at the familiar but still thrilling feeling, and for a long moment, they just stare at each other, both breathing heavily, Bellamy’s finger working her slowly. When he adds another, though, she snaps out of the slight daze, because she wants more. She wants him inside her, now.

She makes quick work of her shirt and bra, throwing both garments into the corner, and pushes her jeans off her hips before starting on his jeans as well.

Bellamy chuckles. “Eager, are we?”

She finally manages to get the button and zipper undone and slips her hand into his boxers to wrap around him. He’s not quite where she wants him yet, but the sharp intake of breath and the way his hips snap against her hand makes her think it shouldn’t take long.

His fingers have stilled inside her, though, so she pushes against him, fucking herself on them until he takes the hint and starts moving again, in time with her hand around him.

“You spent the last four hours getting me worked up in the car,” she breathes out. “What did you expect?”

He laughs, slightly breathless, before tugging a little on her messy braid, making her tilt her head up for a deep, unhurried kiss.

Clarke knows that he’s trying to slow things down, and any other time, she’d go along with it, but not tonight. She does return the kiss, happily, but also starts working on getting her pants all the way off. It takes a minute or two, but soon enough, she can step out of them, leaving her in only her panties.

Bellamy’s still basically fully dressed, though, so she releases him and takes a reluctant step back, making his fingers slide out of her.

“One of us is wearing way too many clothes,” she notes, giving him a once over.

“Mm-hm,” he agrees, reaching out to hook his thumbs in her panties. “These definitely have to go.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she complains, but then he’s kneeling down in front of her, pulling her panties down her legs, and, well, it’s very distracting.

“Up,” he directs her, and Clarke lifts first one foot and then the other, to let him remove the underwear completely. Once they’re gone, he slides a hand up the back of her leg, tugging a little when he gets to her thigh, but she shakes her head, getting a raised eyebrow in return.

“I want you inside me.”

He places a soft kiss just below her belly button. “How can I say no to that?”

He pulls his shirt over his head as he stands back up and captures her lips again. When he wraps an arm around her waist a moment later and pulls her closer, she realizes that he’s gotten rid of the rest of his clothes as well, because she can feel him hot and hard against her stomach.

She knows the bed is somewhere to their right, and after a quick glance to ascertain exactly where, she manages to maneuver them around so she can push him down onto the foot of it before climbing into his lap.

“Princess wants to be in charge, huh?” he mumbles when she rises up enough to be able to wrap her hand around him and position him at her entrance.

“Uh-huh,” she replies, sinking down all the way in one quick motion.

“Fuck,” Bellamy grinds out. “Give a guy some warning next time.”

She gives him an innocent smile. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” His fingers dig into her hips, hard enough to leave marks, probably, and he pulls her impossibly closer.

“No, I’m not.”

Clarke leans her forehead against his, maintaining eye contact as she rises up and sinks back down, much slower this time, relishing the feel of every inch of him inside her. His eyes flutter closed when she repeats the motion a second time, and she lets her head fall back, losing herself in the feeling.

Before long, he starts meeting her downward movement with a thrust of his hips, heightening the already intense feeling, and a moment later, his lips close around her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and pulling a moan from her. The first ripples of her orgasm make her pick up her pace a little, chasing that release, and as if he could read her mind, Bellamy slips a hand between them to find her clit.

It doesn’t take long before she’s coming hard, a cry escaping her and her nails digging into his back.

He holds her close as the waves of pleasure wash over her, mouth still on her breast and tongue circling her nipple. Before she’s come down completely, though, he flips them so she’s on her back and thrusts into her, hard and deep.

She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper and urging him on, and after only a few thrusts, his movements start becoming sloppy. His lips find hers for a kiss that’s messy and a bit more teeth than is entirely pleasant, and then he stills above her, pulsing deep inside her.

Knowing that he’s about to pull out or at least roll them around so she’s on top, Clarke tightens her legs around him and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down completely on top of her.

“I’m crushing you,” he complains breathlessly.

“No, you’re not,” she replies, her eyes sliding closed as she fights to get her breathing back to normal.

She feels Bellamy’s mouth press against the side of her throat and turns her head to get a kiss. He happily obliges.

“Good Valentine’s Day?” he asks after a moment.

“The best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	30. Et La Seine, Et Ses Ponts Qui Brillent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up the UK and continuing through Europe! Barcelona is another one of my favorites, an absolutely amazing city, and I actually visited Paris for the first time just over a year ago, while I was writing this fic – I even passed the hotel I have our couple staying in, which was kind of fun!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Joe le Taxi” by Vanessa Paradis, which is apparently about Paris – I had no idea! The phrase basically translates to “the Seine and its bridges that shine” – I don’t speak French so I had to use Google Translate (which goes against all my professional pride and pretty much physically hurt) please don’t hold it against me if I got it a little wrong

The next morning finds Clarke already in the kitchen when Sasha gets up. They’re heading to the British Museum today, and she knows Bellamy will want an early start, so she’s making breakfast while he showers.

“Morning,” Sasha greets her.

“Morning,” she replies, grabbing a mug from one of the cupboards and filling it with coffee before sliding it along the counter. Sasha happily accepts it. “Did you have a good time last night?”

“We did,” Sasha confirms, taking a long sip. “And so did you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Clarke swallows her own sip before turning to her friend with a confused frown. “Why would you say that?”

A small smile appears on Sasha’s lips. “Well, you didn’t seem to hear us when we got home around eleven,” she expands, wagging her eyebrows a little suggestively.

Clarke immediately feels her cheeks reddening as last night’s activities play in her mind. She didn’t exactly keep track of the time – after their first quickie right after Wells and Sasha left, they got up to watch some TV and a little later, Bellamy cooked some amazing chili before they went back to bed for round two and, eventually, three – but she knows that she glanced at the clock as they were catching their breaths the third time around, and it was a quarter past eleven.

“Sorry,” she apologizes. “I didn’t realize we were that loud.”

“Oh, no,” Sasha immediately assures her, reaching out to squeeze her arm. “We were just passing the guest room at a… an inopportune time, I think. Wells was a little flustered, but you know him – he’s still uncomfortable with that sort of thing.”

Clarke does know that – in many ways, Wells is the complete opposite of Raven, and this is definitely one of them. Where Raven is very open about her own – and everyone else’s – sex life, Wells excuses himself as soon as the topic is raised. Sure, he can tease her about it, like last night before they left, but as soon as it’s an actual fact, he gets extremely awkward.

“I won’t take it personally if he won’t meet my eyes today, then,” she says, only half joking, and Sasha laughs.

Bellamy joins them a minute or so later, and Sasha gives Clarke a little wink before taking her coffee into the living room.

“Hey.” He steps in behind her and pulls her against his chest for a moment, placing a kiss on her temple.

“Hey. Coffee?”

“Please.”

She hands him a full mug before turning back to the stove and turning the burner off, starting to portion out the scrambled eggs onto four plates.

“You ready to let your internal geek out today?” she asks, and Bellamy snorts.

“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing ‘internal’ about my geekiness,” he objects.

She gives him a thorough once over and has to admit that he does look more the part with his glasses – he decided that it would be too much hassle to bring his usual contacts on the trip, with the case and the bottles of solution. He did pack a couple of boxes of daily disposable contacts, but they’re not as comfortable, so he’s wearing his glasses most of the time. And, OK, maybe Clarke encourages him to wear them. She might have a thing for his glasses, so sue her.

“You do have the whole hot history professor thing going,” she says, handing him a plate.

“Oh yeah?” He leans down to kiss her and she happily returns it.

“Morning!”

They almost jump at Wells’ loud and overly cheerful voice, and Clarke glances over at her friend, who is resolutely staring at the floor.

“Morning, Wells,” she replies. “Eggs are just done.”

“Thanks, Clarke.” He looks up carefully, looking relieved when he sees that she and Bellamy are now several feet apart.

“No problem.” She holds out a plate for him as well, and can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when he grabs it.

Wells rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” she objects, chuckling as he quickly leaves the kitchen.

Bellamy’s giving her a look with raised eyebrows. “What was that?”

“Nothing, I just like messing with him,” she tells him. “Wells is easily embarrassed and apparently, we… didn’t hear them come home last night.”

He frowns for a moment, before realizing what she means and letting out a groan. “Seriously? I’m just making a great impression on all your friends, aren’t I?”

Clarke puts her own plate down on the kitchen table, nodding at him to join her before sitting down.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says when he’s sitting next to her. “Wells definitely won’t bring it up, and Sasha had her fun ribbing me a little before you came downstairs. It’s not a big deal. Now eat your eggs, the museum opens at ten and I’m assuming you want to be the first person through the doors.”

They’re not the first through the doors, since there’s a bit of a line when they get there a few minutes before ten, but they’re inside soon enough, and for the next four hours, Clarke happily follows Bellamy from exhibit to exhibit, listening to his excited explanations of what they’re looking at. She manages to get him to agree to a short break when her stomach protests loudly a little after two in the afternoon, and they grab some sandwiches in the Court Café.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks after a moment. “Be honest.”

“Of course I am,” she assures him, because she is. She might not be as excited about the different exhibits as he is, but everything really is interesting. Plus, she loves seeing him so enthusiastic.

He gives her a long, scrutinizing look. “We can head out if you want,” he then says, but she can hear the reluctance in his voice. “We’ve done the lower floor and the ground floor, we only have the upper floor left, and that’s just…” he checks his map “…oh, all of Europe, parts of ancient Greece, Rome and Egypt, and the Middle East.”

“Don’t be silly,” Clarke tells him. “I picked Friday because the museum stays open late. We have the Jack the Ripper tour at seven thirty, so we can’t stay until they close, but I wasn’t planning on going back to the house before that, so as long as we leave by… six thirty, we should be fine.”

Bellamy maintains eye contact for another long moment, as if expecting her to change her mind, but when she doesn’t, he smiles.

“If you’re sure.”

They end up leaving a little after six, catching a cab to Whitechapel to have time to grab some food before the walking tour in the famous serial killer’s footsteps starts.

Clarke’s not completely sure what she expected out of the tour, but she’s riveted as soon as their guide starts his tale, and the projections of Victorian London really makes the story come to life.

“That was amazing,” Bellamy notes when they’re on the tube almost two hours later.

“It really was,” she agrees, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Tired?” he asks, squeezing her around the waist.

“A little,” she replies. “It’s been a pretty long day.”

He hums in agreement. “Tomorrow going to be better?”

“Not too heavy, no,” Clarke confirms. “Just the Portobello market and then a show in the evening.”

They do end up strolling around the market and antiques arcade for five hours on Saturday, but that’s including a lunch break. Perusing all the small stalls that have popped up along Portobello Road and the side streets is less mentally draining than the British Museum was, possibly because Clarke’s always loved the market, ever since she discovered it back in 1956, shortly after the former food market had been invaded by antiques dealers.

She’s not really looking to buy anything, she just loves exploring, but while Wells and Bellamy check out a stall selling sports memorabilia, she does come across an old men’s watch that she immediately picks up.

The band is metal, the face simple and grey with a little date window that’s showing the wrong date, and the minute hand is missing. It still runs, though, the second hand ticking away through its circle.

“How much for this one?” she asks the man behind the counter.

He takes a quick look at the watch and then raises his eyebrow at her. “It’s got a missing hand, miss, you sure you want it? No returns or exchanges.” He points at the little sign saying just that at the corner of the table.

“I know,” she assures him. “How much?”

He scratches his beard for a moment. “Twenty-five?”

It’s her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “You just said it’s missing a hand. Ten,” she counters.

“Deal.”

She hands over the note and he puts the watch in a little paper bag for her.

“I thought you said you were just browsing?” Sasha asks as they leave the stall and Clarke glances around to make sure Wells and Bellamy still aren’t nearby before nodding.

“Yeah, I…” She pauses, because she’s not really sure what drew her to the watch in the first place. It’s nice, sure, but there were other nice watches, with all the hands, in that stall. Still, when her eyes landed on this one, she just knew she had to get it. “I don’t know, it was just something about it…”

Sasha just nods. “I get it, sometimes you just know. Are you thinking a present for Bellamy?”

“Yeah.” Clarke nods. “His birthday’s coming up in March, while we’re in Rome.” She hadn’t really been planning on getting him an actual present – apart from his request for some sexy lingerie for her – but something about the watch just called out to her. What, she doesn’t know – she’s never actually seen him wear a watch, he always checks the time on his phone. But an idea is forming somewhere in the back of her mind.

“There’s this watch repair shop close to the group home where I work,” Sasha tells her. “Do you want me to see if they might have a hand for it? Get it fixed before you leave?”

Clarke gives her a smile. “That would be great, thank you.” She checks to make sure the guys are still some ways ahead before handing the watch over to Sasha. “If you have time, could you also look into getting it engraved? I could do it in Paris, probably, but I don’t want him catching on.”

“Of course,” Sasha agrees, slipping the bag into her purse. “What do you want it to say?”

Clarke writes down the phrase that just popped into her mind in the small notebook she almost always carries with her and rips out the page, handing it to Sasha.

“Thank you.”

Sasha squeezes her hand. “Of course.”

They catch up to the boys and continue exploring.

They’re back at the house by four in the afternoon, so they can relax for about an hour before heading to Piccadilly Circus for an early dinner and then the [Prince of Wales Theatre](https://www.londontheatre.co.uk/theatres/prince-of-wales-theatre) for a showing of _The Book of Mormon_.

Sunday is all free, since they managed to fit in the activities Clarke had planned for that day earlier in the week, so they just lounge around the house, having a long breakfast and relaxing.

Sometime after noon, Wells suggests heading to Covent Garden for lunch, and since nobody has anything against that plan, they spend the afternoon exploring the Apple Market and surrounding shops.

They wrap up the day ordering Chinese and – on Clarke’s insistence, to get in the mood for their tour of the Harry Potter studio in the morning – watching _The Philosopher’s Stone_.

They’ve both been to The Wizarding World Of Harry Potter, Clarke in Orlando and Bellamy in Los Angeles, so they’re maybe not quite as amazed by everything they get to see during the studio tour as some of the other visitors. Still, it’s more immersive, getting to walk around inside the Great Hall, stroll along Diagon Alley and even step into the Forbidden Forest, and they leave with the memory card in the camera considerably fuller than it was when they arrived.

Since they get back to London in the early afternoon, they decide to tick off the last two stops on their itinerary – the temple London Mithraeum and the roman amphitheater – before calling it a day. When Bellamy’s love of Roman history has had its fill, they head home for one last evening with their hosts.

Their flight to Barcelona isn’t until the afternoon on Tuesday, so they have an early lunch with Wells and Sasha before heading off.

“Take care, Griffin,” Wells mumbles as he hugs Clarke goodbye.

“You too, Jaha,” she counters before pulling away.

He doesn’t let her go completely, instead grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “Sasha suggested coming to New York later this summer,” he says quietly, watching her closely. “I know you’ll have Raven, but still, I’d like to be there for you when…”

“Thank you,” she cuts him off, pulling him into another hug.

“Of course.”

She pulls away a moment later and moves to Sasha, who slips a bag into her jacket pocket before enveloping her in a hug.

“All fixed,” she whispers conspiratorially. “And engraving done.”

“Thank you,” Clarke whispers back, squeezing her friend a little tighter.

They say their goodbyes and are soon on the way to the airport and Spain.

Barcelona is exactly the break that Clarke was hoping for. The only thing they have booked is La Sagrada Família, which they get out of the way on Wednesday morning. The unfinished church is just as magnificent as she remembers, and Bellamy’s head swivels from side to side, trying to take in everything at once.

They spend the rest of Wednesday and most of Thursday just strolling around the city, up and down La Rambla, along the narrow streets of Ciutat Vella and through Parc de la Ciutadella. They explore Passeig de Gràcia all the way from Plaça de Catalunya to La Pedrera, with its curved facade. In the late afternoon, they take a cab up to Park Güell, just making it in time for the last entry at six, and watch the sun set over the rooftops below them before the lights flicker on as darkness falls.

By the time they land in a sunny and surprisingly warm Paris the next day, Clarke’s gotten her energy levels up enough to be looking forward to the coming week, which will no doubt be busy.

“You ready to have Paris sweep you off your feet?” she asks while they’re waiting for their bags.

Bellamy chuckles next to her. “Well, they do call it the city of love.”

“Do I need to worry?”

He snorts. “I think you’re good.”

The cab drops them off outside the hotel an hour later, and for a moment, Bellamy just stares up at the off white façade with its cast iron railings.

“This was one of the hotels you splurged on, right?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the building, voice a little awestruck.

“Yup,” Clarke confirms. “Come on, wait until you see the view.”

His eyes widen as soon as they enter the hotel lobby and when they actually reach their room and finally see the main reason she booked the hotel – the amazing view of the Eiffel Tower – his jaw actually drops.

She decides to give him a moment to take all of it in, moving around him to unpack a little and check out the bathroom.

When he still hasn’t moved when she comes back into the bedroom, she decides it’s time to make sure he’s not in shock or something.

“You OK?” she asks, dropping down on the bench at the foot of the bed to take her shoes off and change out of the comfy pants she wore on the flight.

He shakes his head once. “Yeah, this is just… amazing.”

“Told you,” she says with, OK, a slightly smug smile. “Isn’t just the view worth…”

“Stop!” Bellamy cuts her off, raising a hand. “I know this place can’t be cheap, but just don’t tell me what you actually paid. I think I’m better off in the dark, I’m not sure I’d be able to enjoy it if I know for sure that it cost more than my rent.”

She can’t help but laugh at that. “I wasn’t going to tell you what I paid for the room,” she assures him. “What I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted me, was ‘isn’t just the view worth staying here’.”

“Oh.” He gives her a slightly sheepish smile before crossing the room to the terrace doors. “Absolutely. Can we go outside?”

“Of course.”

Clarke stands to pull her jeans up and button them before opening the door and leading the way out onto the terrace beyond.

It’s pretty nice, probably mid-fifties, and the sun has started to set to their right, the light reflecting off the metal Eiffel Tower across the Seine. She leans against the railing, breathing in the fresh air, and feels more than hears Bellamy come to a stop next to her.

“So you and Raven stayed here a few years ago?” he asks after a moment, and she shakes her head.

“She and Zeke stayed here when they visited me in… 2010, I think,” she replies. “But my apartment didn’t have views like these, so we spent most evenings on their terrace. It was late spring, a _little_ warmer than now.”

He chuckles and slides an arm around her waist, and she willingly steps closer, wrapping an arm around him as well. “I can see why,” he notes quietly, and when she looks up at him, his eyes are trained on the iron structure, so she leans her head against his shoulder and turns her gaze in the same direction.

They stay like that for some time, until the sun has disappeared behind the rooftops, before Bellamy lets out a long breath and straightens up.

“We should probably try to find somewhere to eat,” he suggests, checking the time on his phone. “It’s almost seven.”

“It is?” She looks down at the screen as well, which reads 6:57. “Let’s wait a little longer.”

He gives her a questioning look. “Why?”

Clarke just turns back to the view. “You’ll see.”

A few minutes later, the tower is lit up by a yellow light, bright against the almost black sky.

“That’s cool,” he says.

“There’s more.”

A moment later, the beam at the top of the tower is lit and then, just after, the entire tower looks like it starts to sparkle.

Bellamy lets out a low whistle. “Wow.”

“I know, isn’t it beautiful?”

He hums in agreement, his arm around her tightening.

“We’re going to the Eiffel Tower, right?” he asks a few minutes later, when the light show has ended and they’re back in the hotel room.

“Yup,” Clarke confirms, not even needing to check their itinerary. “Tuesday, all booked.”

“Good,” he replies with a nod, fingers picking at the outside pocket of his backpack almost absentmindedly for a moment before he grabs his jacket. “Ready?”

For a second, she considers asking if something’s up, but he smiles at her and she pushes the thought aside.

It’s probably nothing.

Surprisingly enough, Paris puts its best foot forward when they leave the hotel on Saturday morning – it’s a little colder than yesterday, but the sky above them is blue and the sun is shining.

Clarke smiles up at the few fluffy clouds that are drifting across the sky. “We’re really having luck with the weather so far,” she notes. “I was honestly expecting rain both here and in London.”

“Now you’ve jinxed it,” Bellamy complains. “It’s going to start raining any moment, just you wait.”

“Not from those clouds,” she counters. “But I promise, if it does start raining, I will take full responsibility.”

He just shakes his head, an amused expression on his face. “That’s all I ask. Come on, let’s get going.”

With that, he holds out a hand for her, and Clarke takes it with a smile, taking the lead when they reach the street. She’s always loved Paris, and strolling around the city with Bellamy, she remembers why.

They start at the Arc de Triomphe, which is just twenty minutes from the hotel, before heading down Champs-Élysées towards Place de la Concorde. They stroll around Jardin des Tuileries for a bit, checking out the different statues, before leaving the well-manicured lawns and trees to admire the glass pyramid of the Louvre.

They grab lunch at a cute little café just beyond the museum, before backtracking and crossing the Seine at Pont des Arts. The thousands upon thousands of padlocks, attached to the bridge by couples visiting the city of love, that she remembers from her last few years in Paris are gone – she does have a vague memory of reading something about it a few years ago – instead replaced by sheets of Perspex covering the metal railing, to keep new locks from being attached.

Some seem determined to get their lock on the bridge, though, and there are locks attached to the street lights around the bridge, as well as to what looks like bicycle locks wrapped around the lamp posts on the bridge itself. There are even a few tiny locks fastened around bolts on the actual structure.

The afternoon is spent exploring the seventh arrondissement, working their way back towards the hotel slowly, past numerous museums and little parks. They take the time to walk around the whole of Les Invalides, admiring the magnificent building from all angles, before continuing to Champ de Mars and eventually reaching the Eiffel Tower. Well, as close to the tower they can get without a ticket, since you can’t walk under the actual structure anymore.

“Fuck, it’s tall,” Bellamy notes, craning his neck to take in the top of the tower.

Clarke glances at him. “Yeah… you ready to climb all the way to the top?”

He pales at her question. “We have to climb the stairs all the way up?”

She was planning on dragging her joke out a little, but she can’t help but laugh at the look on his face. “You can take the stairs to the first and second level, but I did get tickets with lift access,” she assures him. “Though there can be lines if it’s busy. Last time I was here, with Raven and Zeke, Raven got sick of waiting for the elevators and dragged us up the stairs. All 674 steps.”

Bellamy shakes his head incredulously. “I’m fine waiting for the elevator,” he says. “I mean, we won’t be in any hurry, right?”

“Nope, I didn’t book anything else on Wednesday,” she confirms. “So we can spend all day here if we want. Definitely enough time to wait for the elevators.”

They hang around the area a little longer, checking out the tower from all sides before grabbing coffee at one of the little stands by the nearby carousel. A few kids are riding the different figures, laughing along with the cheerful music, and they stop to watch them for a while.

“So, first impressions, what do you think?” Clarke asks after a while, looping her arm through Bellamy’s and pulling him along towards the bridge.

“Definitely the best full day in Paris ever,” he tells her, wrapping an arm around her waist in turn and squeezing.

“It’s your first full day in Paris,” she points out amusedly, earning a chuckle.

“So? It’s been amazing, exactly what I wanted today – laid back sightseeing with my favorite person in the world.”

She gives him a look. “Are you getting sappy? Is that what’s happening here, the romantic idea of Paris making you all mushy?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, pinching her side, but does join in her laugh as they cross the Seine.

It’s still relatively warm out, so they end up taking a bit of a detour through Jardins du Trocadéro, checking out the Palais de Chaillot, before returning to the hotel.

Sunday is spent in a similar fashion, only this time, they start off in the opposite direction. The weather continues to cooperate, the sun shining down on them from a mostly blue sky, despite Bellamy’s prediction that Clarke’s jinx would lead to rain.

It’s a bit of a walk, but after an hour or so, they reach their first stop – the Panthéon. They spend longer than Clarke had planned here, exploring the crypt with its many graves, taking in Foucault’s pendulum, and climbing to the top of the colonnade to admire the view. Still, it’s only a little after noon when they set out again, this time with Notre Dame as their goal.

They start in the towers – Clarke’s calf muscles are already sore from the climb of the Arc de Triomphe yesterday, but she toughs it out – before exploring the cathedral proper and the crypt across the square, which isn’t a crypt in the traditional sense, with tombs or graves, but an archeological exhibition.

Once Bellamy’s had his fill of the old Roman ruins, they emerge into the sunny afternoon and once again cross the Seine to Île Saint-Louis. Since both of their stomachs are grumbling by now, they quickly enter a café just across the bridge, and enjoy a wonderful brunch with views of the river and the cathedral.

“Where to now?” Bellamy asks eagerly when they leave the café a while later, and Clarke can’t help but laugh.

“God, you’re like a kid in a candy store,” she tells him, squeezing his arm affectionately and pulling him along towards the other side of the island and the bridge leading over to Le Marais.

He chuckles. “I know, I can’t help it. And this is just the beginning – wait until we get to Italy and Greece, I’m going to get even worse.”

She can practically picture it now, Bellamy darting between sights and ruins, her trying to keep up.

She can’t wait.

“Well, we don’t have anything else booked today,” she says. “But I thought I’d show you my old stomping grounds, my favorite part of Paris.”

“Ah.” He glances down at her with a smile. “I’d love that.”

They follow the river for a while, perusing the little stalls set up on the wall, before cutting along Boulevard Henri IV to Place de la Bastille, once home to the famous fortress but now really just a large roundabout surrounding a memorial for the July Revolution of 1830. From there, Clarke leads the way through increasingly narrow streets to Place des Vosges, where she stops in the middle of the little park and closes her eyes, breathing in not just the air but the feel of Paris. The trees are bare, the fountain empty of water and there are no kids playing in the large sandbox, but the atmosphere is still somehow the same as during long, warm summer days. She’s always loved the city, and she’s really not completely sure why she hasn’t lived here more. She might need to rectify that.

“So this is where I lived,” she says when she opens her eyes again to fins Bellamy watching her.

“Here?” he asks amusedly, looking around them.

She rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs. “Not _in_ the park, obviously. Over there.” She nods at the building in question, along one side of the park.

He looks where she indicated and lets out a low whistle. “Nice. I’m assuming you don’t still have that apartment, since we’re staying at a hotel?”

“It was never mine, really, it’s the Soul Keeper building in Paris, or one of them, so you get an apartment during the period you’re assigned to the city, and then someone else gets it once you leave,” she explains.

“You have your own _buildings_?” he asks incredulously, and she shrugs.

“Yeah. All cities and towns with more than a dozen or so Soul Keepers have one or more buildings with apartments that we can claim when we’re assigned somewhere. It’s convenient when you’re new to a city and don’t really know it, and especially in the cut-throat rental market that’s in most major cities these days, it’s really handy.”

He nods thoughtfully while she talks. “I guess that makes sense. Or as much sense as any of this whole Soul Keeper business makes, anyway…”

Clarke has to laugh at the frustrated note in his voice and reaches out to interlace their fingers. “Come on, this is the oldest area of Paris, there are so many historic buildings that I just know you’re going to love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone calls me out – yes, I know there was a fire at Notre Dame last year (I was actually there just a few weeks after it happened, at the beginning of May), but as I started writing this back in 2018, it’s set during the fall of 2018 and winter/spring/summer of 2019 – I know this isn’t exactly clear most of the time so I just wanted to address it. The trip to Paris takes place February 22 to March 2 2019, before the fire happened, hence the visit to the cathedral!


	31. Through the Smoke, Through the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I realized some time ago that this was going to take ages at the posting rate I’m going, so it’s been my intention for at least a month to start posting twice a week, I just haven’t had the time. Right now I actually do (though I probably jinxed it just writing that!) so I’m going to try to pick things up and post (probably) Wednesdays and Saturdays going forward!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings
> 
> Chapter title from “Just to Save Me (Through the Fire)”, by Jake Etheridge

Experiencing Paris with Bellamy is so different from experiencing it on her own, or even with Raven and Zeke, and Clarke soon realizes why the city has earned the nickname ‘the city of love’. Sure, she’s been able to say objectively that the promenade along the Seine is beautiful and probably romantic, especially at night, with its many bridges lit up and glittering in the darkness, and watching the sun set over the Seine, the Eiffel Tower in the distance, must be the perfect romantic setting, but she’s never really felt it herself before.

Wandering through the narrow streets of Le Marais with Bellamy, though, she finally gets it. Even in broad daylight, their surroundings make the stroll feel more intimate, the many little squares ideal for short breaks with brief kisses and the old buildings and churches that appear every few blocks lending the scene an almost timeless feel.

They don’t have a goal in mind, and not really any time restraints, apart from the fact that they’re leaving early tomorrow morning for a bus tour out to the coast and the beaches of the D-Day landings, so by the time the sun starts setting, they’re only just leaving Le Marais, passing the odd building that houses the Pompidou Centre.

“It’s getting dark,” Bellamy notes, gazing up at the sky where the moon and stars have replaced the sun. “You want to start heading back, maybe grab an early dinner at one of those little places we saw along the river earlier?”

“Mmm,” she agrees, reaching up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Early to bed…”

He chuckles and tugs her closer. “That’s what I was thinking, yeah, but not for the reasons _you’re_ obviously thinking.” She pouts a little at that, making him laugh even more. “I thought we had to get up at, like, five tomorrow?”

“So?”

He just shakes his head at her. “Come on, let’s worry about food first, and then we’ll see what you’re up for when we get back to the hotel.”

Clarke accepts his hand and they set out in the direction of the Seine, crossing the river at Pont Neuf and descending the stairs just beyond it to walk along the water. All the restaurants along their route are full, though, which they probably should have expected – even though it is a Sunday evening, they are in a very popular part of the city. Eventually, they end up at a little bistro just a block or so from the hotel, and they’re back in their room by eight o’clock.

They don’t go to sleep for another couple of hours, but still.

-100-

Clarke hadn’t been completely sure about booking a tour with focus on World War Two, considering Bellamy’s historical interest lies more in ancient Greece and Rome. In the end, she decided that she wanted to go on the tour, though, and when she sees Bellamy listening to their guide intently, she’s glad she did.

It’s an interesting day, for sure. The museums, the memorials on the beaches, the American cemetery…

“Did you have any ancestors who fought in the war?” Clarke asks, keeping her voice low, when they’re weaving through the crosses marking the graves.

“Not that I know,” Bellamy replies, looking out over the field. “But I don’t really know a lot about my family. My grandparents kicked my mom out when she was sixteen and they caught her kissing a guy they didn’t approve of. She lived with a friend’s family for a few years, until she turned eighteen and could get a job, an apartment of her own… After that, Mom didn’t have any contact with her family at all, or at least not as far as I know. O asked about them sometimes, but Mom just brushed it off, changed the subject, until she didn’t bother asking anymore. They didn’t even reach out to us after Mom died. Not that… they might not even know she’s dead, I guess, I definitely never told them… They could still be alive, I suppose, but…”

She pulls him to a stop to be able to wrap her arms around him. “If that’s the way they treated their own daughter, they don’t deserve to know you or Octavia.”

His arms go around her and he leans his chin against the top of her head. “Yeah.”

It’s after ten by the time they get back to the hotel, and Clarke has just enough energy left to set an alarm for the next morning, when they have tickets to the Eiffel Tower at ten o’clock, before tumbling into bed and falling asleep within minutes.

After a good night’s sleep and a sturdy breakfast, they head off towards the Eiffel Tower the next day. Clarke has to admit that she’s excited about the visit. She’s been to the tower before, the first time way back in 1957, when she and Wells spent a week in a small village in the French countryside, somewhere between Paris and Orléans – they had only stayed one night in Paris on the way back to London but had managed to fit a quick visit in – and twice while she lived here between 2005 and 2011. But this visit, with Bellamy, feels… different, somehow.

They have tickets to skip the line and are soon in the enclosed area around the tower. The line to the elevator is already pretty long, so they stroll around the Esplanade for a while, getting close to the pillars and snapping pictures from below the tower itself, before joining the queue.

The first floor has changed a lot since Clarke was last here – not least the new glass floor.

“OK, this is a little creepy,” she says when they reach the first section of it. “I don’t know if I like it.”

“Why not?” Bellamy asks, stepping onto the glass and turning to face her with a smirk. “Not like it would hurt you if the floor did give out. Which it’s not going to.”

She takes a tentative step onto the glass as well, eyes firmly straight ahead, and reaches for his hand, which he willingly holds out for her. “It would hurt me,” she retorts. “It just wouldn’t kill me… probably. Not sure where exactly the line between self-inflicted and accident is…”

“Right.” He squeezes her hand. “But you have to look down, it’s amazing. Come on, just for a second.”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and then quickly looks down, which… OK, not as scary as she thought. It’s pretty obvious they’re standing on a pane of glass, doesn’t look like they’re floating in air, like she’s seen in photos from other sights with similar arrangements.

“It is pretty cool,” she admits.

“See? I told you.”

They move on to the cultural path a few minutes later, exploring the tower and its history, before again getting in line for the elevators.

They don’t linger too long on the second floor, just rounding the tower to get photos of the city sprawled out far beneath them from all sides before continuing to the last stop – the top floor.

As soon as they’ve climbed the final staircase and emerge onto the open-air platform wrapping around the top floor of the tower, the wind catches Clarke’s hair and blows it all around her. She quickly gathers it into a ponytail to get it out of her face before following Bellamy to the railing.

“Wow,” he breathes when she joins him, eyes fixed on the Seine below, crisscrossed by bridges and with Île aux Cygnes no more than a narrow, green strip of land.

“I know,” she agrees, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder. A moment later, she feels his arm go around her, pulling her even closer.

They stay like that, just watching the city below, for a long moment before Clarke takes a step to the side and looks up at him.

“Come on,” she says with a smile, slipping her hand into his instead and leading the way around the platform.

They move slowly, stopping every few feet to point out something below or wait for other tourists to move out of the way.

“Is that the Arc de Triomphe?” Bellamy asks, indicating the structure in question, when they’ve almost completed their lap.

“Yup,” Clarke confirms, releasing his hand to be able to lean against the railing. “And I think that might be our hotel.”

“Yeah?”

He’s right behind her, the word spoken softly into her ear, making a tingle run down her spine. She turns her head a little, to be able to look up at him, at the same time as he leans against the railing, hands on either side of her.

She knows she was about to say something, but she can’t for the life of her remember what, not when he’s watching her like that, eyes intense and not shifting the slightest from hers. Finally, he breaks eye contact, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on her lips. “Love you, Princess.”

“I love you.”

He opens his mouth again, as if he’s about to say something else, but is interrupted by a shriek coming from a few feet to their right. When they both turn to see what’s going on, they find a man on one knee, a ring in his outstretched hand, and his overjoyed girlfriend nodding frantically with tears streaming down her face.

Clarke laughs lowly. “Another Eiffel Tower proposal,” she notes lightly. “I think there were… three the last time I was here, one up here and two down in the restaurant.”

“Ah,” Bellamy says with a nod, glancing down at her but quickly averting his eyes. “Popular spot, I guess. You want to get going?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s romantic and all…” She pauses until they’re well out of earshot of the newly-engaged couple. “But a little bit of a cliché, you know? Like proposing on Valentine’s Day or putting the ring in a champagne glass.”

He chuckles as he follows her back down the stairs to the elevator.

They’ve taken their time, so it’s almost two by the time they get back to the ground.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Clarke says once they’ve crossed the street to Champ de Mars.

“I could eat,” Bellamy agrees with a shrug. “What are you in the mood for?”

She thinks for a moment. “If it hasn’t closed in the last eight years, there should be a place with the best pizza in Paris a few blocks from here.”

“Sounds good. Lead the way.”

It takes a little while, but she does eventually find the restaurant, on the corner of two nondescript streets in the heart of Grenelle, and they still have amazing pizza. By the time their plates are mostly empty, they’re both way too full and decide to head back to the hotel to just relax for a few hours.

They wrap up the day with dinner and an amazing show at the famous Parisian cabaret Moulin Rouge.

Wednesday is another intense day – they’re at the Louvre when it opens at nine in the morning and spend most day strolling through the many rooms and waiting to get close enough to actually be able to see the Mona Lisa. After they’ve had some lunch at the Café Mollien, Clarke half-heartedly offers to call it a day, but Bellamy won’t hear it.

“We still have, like, half this place left,” he points out, which is true.

“That’s OK, we’ve seen the most interesting pieces,” she replies with a shrug.

He gives her a long, scrutinizing look. “Nope, I’m putting my foot down – we’re staying until we’ve seen everything.”

She had been hoping he would say that, but still felt like she needed to at least make the suggestion, since she knows he’s not that interested in art. “You sure?”

“Positive, Princess,” he assures her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss on top of her head. “I am having a good time, really.”

She tries to find any hint of insincerity in his eyes or voice, but there’s nothing. Maybe he really is enjoying himself. She had fun at the British Museum, after all, just watching him enjoy the exhibits.

In the end, it’s dark by the time they leave the museum, and they just stop for food on the way before returning to the hotel for another ‘early night’.

Thursday and Friday they spend out and about in the city once more, exploring Montmartre with the striking, white basilica of Sacré-Cœur, the Père Lachaise cemetery with its many celebrity tombs, Jardin du Luxembourg and the slightly morbid catacombs underneath the city.

“OK, this is a little creepy, right?” Bellamy mumbles when they’re stopped in front of a wall made of skulls and bones, with a cross in the middle.

“Little bit, yeah,” she agrees immediately.

They continue through the humid tunnels but don’t really linger too much, and she has to admit that she sucks in a deep breath once they’re back out in the open air. She might technically work with death, but that doesn’t normally mean skeletons.

The next day, they leave a sunny Paris and, an hour and a half later, land in an equally nice, if colder, Berlin.

“How is it colder here than in Iceland?” Bellamy half-grumbles when they’re waiting for a cab outside the terminal.

“I don’t know, but I can’t wait until we get to Italy,” she replies.

He chuckles a little. “I doubt it’ll be nice and warm, it’ll still be mid-March,” he points out.

“Yeah,” she grudgingly agrees, turning her head up just to catch a snowflake on her nose. “But at least it won’t snow.”

Since they only have two full days in Berlin, Clarke has booked a half-day walking tour on Sunday, which covers the main sights in the city. Luckily, the snow never became more than a few flakes yesterday, and the temperature has risen significantly over night.

The only time she’s been in Berlin before was in 1989. She was stationed in Gothenburg in the south western parts of Sweden when news of the fall of the Berlin wall came. She and Harper, who was there at the same time, had quickly decided to head down there, since both of them somehow had two free days ahead of them, and actually being there, during one of the big moments in history, is something Clarke has never regretted.

Still, she suspects that the day and a half she spent in the city back then is probably not representative of Berlin today.

One of the stops on the tour is Checkpoint Charlie, the old crossing point between East and West Berlin, and they also stop at a few places with remnants of the wall, but that’s basically all Clarke remembers from her previous visit. Everything else is new for both her and Bellamy – the monument Brandenburger Tor, the Reichstag, which houses the parliament, the avenue Unter den Linden… it’s a bit of a fast forward introduction to the city, and there’s a lot of information in the few short hours they spend with their guide, but it gives them a good idea of what they want to go back to tomorrow, and they get some tips about other things to check out as well.

Their hotel is practically on Alexanderplatz, but they didn’t arrive until pretty late last night, so they spend the afternoon checking out the surrounding area – the World Time Clock and TV tower on the square, city hall and Nikolaikirche closer to the Spree, and finally Berliner Dom on the other side of the river.

Monday, the weather takes another turn, the sky a bright blue and the sun beaming down on them, lifting the temperature towards the sixties. After breakfast, they set out on foot in search of the East Side Gallery – the preserved mile or so of the Berlin Wall that’s covered with murals these days – and also check out the Wall Museum before taking a cab back to Brandenburger Tor, where they pay their respect at the Holocaust memorial nearby. A few minutes later, they pass the site of Hitler’s bunker – nothing more than a non-descript parking area and lawn in a residential neighborhood these days. There’s a sign with some information, but that’s it. Clarke’s not entirely sure how she feels about that – on the one hand, she can see why the people living here wouldn’t want to brag about it, but on the other, she’s been around long enough to know that humanity has a tendency to repeat its mistakes. If you try to forget your past, no matter how horrible it is, what’s to say it won’t just happen all over again?

“I thought there would be… more,” Bellamy notes, giving voice to her thoughts.

“I know, me too.”

“I mean…” he continues after a moment. “I’m not saying glorify that time period or anything, but if you just try to forget it…”

“That can be very dangerous,” Clarke finishes his sentence.

“Exactly.”

They wrap up the day – and their Berlin experience – with another visit to Checkpoint Charlie, followed by a long walk through the sunny and surprisingly warm city, back to their hotel. Before Clarke can quite wrap her mind around being in Berlin, they’re on the plane to Kraków the next morning.

“Do you realize we’ve already been traveling for a month and a half?” Bellamy asks once the plane has levelled out at cruising altitude.

Clarke has to think about it for a moment but realizes that he’s right – they left New York on January 20, and it’s now March 5. It’s been six and a half weeks.

“I mean, considering everything we’ve done, it doesn’t sound like a lot of time,” she notes, curling up against him and stretching her legs out over his lap. “But it still doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, and I can’t believe it’s already March.”

His arm goes around her and he pulls her even closer, practically into his lap. “Yeah. Time flies…”

“Hey.” She leans back a little to be able to look up at him. “We still have a lot left.”

She’s not sure herself if she means that they have a lot of trip left – which they do – or a lot of time. Which they don’t, not really, not in the grand scheme of things. Four and a half months, that’s nothing to her and not much more to the average Norm.

The thought makes her eyes dart to Bellamy’s forehead and his Number, which she barely thinks about these days. 144. It had been 271 the day they met – even if she hadn’t seen it until two, technically three, days later. It’s not quite half, but it’s painfully close.

He catches her glance, of course. “What is it today?”

She takes a deep breath and buries her face against his shoulder before answering. “144.” It’s muffled a little, but she knows he still hears her.

Bellamy doesn’t say anything to that, but she can feel the shaky breath he sucks in and then lets back out. Neither of them speak for a while, just existing in the same space.

“I wish I could give you more time,” Clarke then mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut against the swell of emotions threatening to suffocate her. “If there was anything I could do, I…”

“I know, Princess,” he cuts her off, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know. I’m OK. Really.”

Maybe he is, maybe she’s the only one fighting back tears and struggling to push down the lump that’s quickly rising in her throat. Or maybe he can just tell that she’s close to snapping and is trying to comfort her.

The thought makes her pull herself together, at least enough so she can look up at him without bursting into tears. He looks calm, eyes soft, even the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Really,” he repeats, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s OK to not be OK, though,” she tells him.

“I know.” He nods. “And I promise I will let you know when I’m not.”

She keeps her eyes locked with his for a long moment, until she’s sure he really means it. “Good.”

“Is everything alright here?”

They both jump a little at the sharp voice and look up to find a flight attendant looking down at them, an annoyed expression on her face. She quickly puts on a fake smile when she has their attention.

“Everything’s fine,” Clarke assures her, sliding back fully into her own seat and pulling her legs out of Bellamy’s lap.

“Great!” The smile widens but the woman still looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. “We’ll be landing in just a little while, so if you could fasten your seatbelts, that would be excellent.”

They immediately do as they’re told and manage to make it until she’s disappeared through the curtains to business class before they break down laughing.

“Talk about passive aggressive,” Bellamy notes when he’s stopped laughing.

“Yeah, who pissed in her coffee this morning,” Clarke agrees, glancing towards the front of the plane to make sure the woman really is gone before pulling his arm around her and snuggling closer.

The heavy moment is broken, if only for now.

Kraków is another brief stop, they only have one full day in the city which they spend exploring as much as they can on foot. Their hotel is close to the Ghetto Heroes Square, a poignant memorial to the Jews of the old ghetto who were sent to their deaths during the war. It seems even more harrowing in the beautiful and sunny March morning and neither of them say anything, just stand there in silence, hands interlaced, looking out over the square, before Clarke finally tugs Bellamy along.

They slowly make their way to Oskar Schindler’s old factory, which is another interesting but chilling experience, before crossing the Vistula into Kazimierz, the old Jewish quarters. Clarke has downloaded an app for street art in Kraków, which is apparently a big thing, and they spend some time locating all the murals in the area before continuing towards the Wawel castle and cathedral.

Deciding they need a break from being cultural, Bellamy insists they grab some food before continuing, and Clarke realizes that she’s actually hungry. They end up at a restaurant in the castle grounds where they try some local pierogi, which are absolutely delicious.

After lunch, they make their way to Krakow’s old town, Stare Miasto, which is all cobbled pedestrian streets, magnificent churches and little squares, and Clarke immediately loves it. Awnings indicate where there are probably tables during warmer months, and the sun is warming them enough that it’s not hard to imagine enjoying a coffee or drink here.

Eventually, they find the main market square, a huge, open space surrounded on all sides by beautiful old buildings in different colors. In the middle of the square is an ornate building which Clarke quickly figures out is the old cloth hall. They stroll around the stands set up on the open ground floor for a while, perusing everything from jewelry and clothes to art and glassware. Once Clarke’s picked out an adorable, purple plush dragon – apparently a Wawel dragon from local folklore – for Raven, they leave the old town and follow the river back in the general direction of their hotel. For part of the way, the path is interspersed with stars with what they assume are the names of famous people and their handprints, Hollywood Walk of Fame style. They eventually find Michael Jackson, confirming their theory, and then Benedict Cumberbatch and Roman Polanski.

They cross the river once more and spend another hour or so finding the last of the street murals from Clarke’s app, before finally returning to the hotel for an early night.

The next day, they’re on a minibus leaving the city by eight thirty in the morning, en route to the main reason they even came to Kraków in the first place – the Auschwitz-Birkenau memorial and museum.

“This feels strange,” Bellamy mumbles when they’re standing on a paved parking lot an hour and a half later. It looks just like any other tourist attraction – half a dozen buses are parked along one side of the lot, their minibus and a few others along the other, another group of tourists gathered around an information board. Nothing that gives away what actually happened here. At least not yet. “Just… it’s great that it’s been preserved and that you can experience it, learn about what happened, but it still feels…”

“Morbid?” Clarke offers when he trails off, sliding her hand into his and squeezing.

He lets out a long breath. “That’s probably a good word, yeah.”

The guided tour is… interesting, of course, but it feels wrong to say, somehow. It’s heartbreaking and terrifying and shocking and… Clarke’s not sure there are really words for it.

And the beautiful weather just feels _wrong_. Not that grey skies and rain would make the stark reality of the place any better, but the bright sun and blue sky somehow makes it even more surreal.

When they pass under the infamous ‘Arbeit macht frei’ sign, she feels Bellamy shudder beside her and slides an arm around his waist.

“You OK?”

He nods. “Yeah, I… just picturing what happened here makes me feel cold all over.”

“I know,” she agrees. “I remember when the first reports started coming after the war, about what happened in these places…” Some of those images have stayed with her to this day, the children in striped clothes behind barbed wire, the emaciated bodies of survivors, the mass graves and piles of clothes…

“Yeah?”

Bellamy’s voice brings her out of her memories and she leans into him gratefully when he pulls her closer. They’re at the back of the group, so she’s not worried about being overheard, but she still lowers her voice a little when she continues.

“I mean, there were rumors during the war, and even before…” She sighs. “Me and Raven and a couple of other friends were at a rally in Madison Square Garden in 1937, this huge protest against Nazi Germany and Hitler… we knew the war was going on, even before Pearl Harbor, but it was distant, you know? But I don’t think anyone could even imagine this.”

He sighs. “Who could? It shouldn’t be possible, people shouldn’t be able to treat other human beings like this…”

They continue in silence, following their guide around the camp for another hour, before they get back on the bus for the short trip to their second stop at Birkenau.

The first thing they see when they get off the bus again is railroad tracks leading through an opening in a brick building, and Clarke has to actually stop for a moment, because she knows this place. She _remembers_ it.

Bellamy has stopped beside her, a frown on his face, so she quickly smiles at him. “I’m OK.”

“You don’t look OK,” he retorts, eyebrows furrowed.

“I am, really. Just a… memory. Not mine,” she hurries to add when his eyes widen. “I don’t even remember her name, it must be… fifteen years ago? Maybe twenty.”

Realization dawns on his face. “Ah, one of your… clients?”

It’s as good a word as any, Clarke supposes.

“Yeah. I’m sure she had other memories from this place, but sometimes those things get a little jumbled, or maybe she had repressed them… I can’t remember anything else, anyway. This was the one thing that was a really clear memory, arriving here…”

“Do you want to skip this part?” Bellamy asks, but she shakes her head.

“No, I’m fine, really. Come on.”

So they catch up with their group for the last part of the tour.

It’s a quiet drive back to the city later in the afternoon, everyone in the minibus deep in their own thoughts, reflecting over everything they’ve experienced.

Clarke curls up against Bellamy and lets his warmth and presence comfort her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: references to the Holocaust and concentration camps, it gets a little dark


	32. Secrets Stolen from Deep Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second update this week, I made it at least once! And it’s finally time for Italy! I haven’t been to Venice myself, even if I would love to go, so again a lot of Google Maps ;)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings
> 
> Chapter title from “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper

The subdued mood lingers on Friday morning, but by the time their connecting flight from Warsaw starts its descent into the Marco Polo airport in Venice, Bellamy can no longer keep the smile off his face, despite the fact that it’s already dark out and they can’t really see anything. Clarke doesn’t even try.

“I can’t believe we’re in _Italy_!” he exclaims as soon as they’ve touched down. “I mean, I knew we were going here, so on a logical level I can, but just… it’s so surreal.”

She can’t help but laugh at his childish excitement. “Are you going to get even worse once we’re actually in Rome, or is this a general Italy enthusiasm? Just so I know what to expect.”

He rolls his eyes at her and practically jumps out of his seat as soon as the ‘fasten your seatbelt’ sign comes off – not before.

Their hotel is by the San Marco Basin, just a few blocks from St Mark’s Square, which means they have to change from a cab to a water taxi at Piazzale Roma. Which is all part of the Venice experience, but Bellamy looks a little hesitant as they approach the little boat.

“Don’t tell me you get seasick?” Clarke half-teases, and he shrugs.

“I’m not sure, really, I haven’t been on a lot of boats.”

“The whale watching boat in Iceland was fine,” she notes.

He raises his eyebrows at that. “And a lot bigger than this one.”

OK, that’s true.

“You’ll be fine, the canals are pretty sheltered, it doesn’t get too rough,” she assures him as she lets the captain help her onboard, switching to Italian and asking him to take it a little slow as her boyfriend isn’t used to boats. He chuckles a little at her request but promises to do his best.

“You speak Italian too?” Bellamy asks once they’re settled in the boat and the captain is starting the engine.

He hadn’t seemed that surprised that she spoke French, but she did use to live there, so it probably makes more sense than Italian.

“I’m not fluent or anything, but I can get by,” she tells him.

“So French and Italian… any others?”

He’s probably trying to distract himself from the way the water slaps against the side of the boat, but Clarke doesn’t mind helping him with that.

“Well, English, obviously,” she starts, and he pinches her side. “Ow, stop it. Um… Swedish, I figured it would be good to know while I was stationed there.”

“But you’ve never been stationed in Italy, right?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ve been here on holiday, but never stationed here. Italian sort of came naturally from Spanish, in a way. Raven taught me that way back, which was the starting point of my interest in languages, I guess.”

“Well, you certainly have the time to learn any language you want,” he notes drily, and gets a light elbow in the ribs in return.

“Anyway, so English, French, Spanish and Swedish I speak fine, my Swedish is a little rusty since I don’t use it much,” she continues. “Then my level of Italian and Portuguese I would say is ‘get by without having to resort to sign language’, and I basically understand but don’t really speak Russian, Japanese and German. And I’ve been thinking about learning Mandarin, but it seems really hard.” Bellamy’s openly staring at her when she finishes. “What?”

He lets out a huff of a laugh and pulls her closer. “You’re just amazing, you know that?”

“Well, obviously. But like you said, I do have a lot of time to pretty much do what I want, and these days it’s really easy with all the apps and stuff,” she says with a shrug.

“Still amazing.”

She leans into his side and lets out a long breath. “You’re pretty amazing too.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he replies, his lips brushing her hair briefly.

She nuzzles against his throat and squeezes his thigh. “I was hoping it might.”

His arm slips around her, underneath her jacket, and his thumb brushes her ribcage just below her breast, making her entire body tingle in anticipation.

Still, by the time they’ve checked in, grabbed a late dinner and made it back to their room, they both collapse into bed. Bellamy has enough energy left to pull her to him, her back to his front, but after that, they’re both asleep within minutes.

-100-

It’s been a couple of decades since Clarke was in Venice last, and they spend their first day in the city getting acquainted – Bellamy – and reacquainted – Clarke – with it.

The sky is a little cloudy when they leave the hotel the first morning, but the temperature’s in the mid-fifties, so it’s still nice out. There are already tourists out and about, and little stands set up along the water, selling everything from hats and Venetian masks to gelato. All along the quay, water taxis and gondolas are lined up, waiting for their next passengers.

They pause on Ponte della Paglia, like everyone else, to take some photos of Ponte dei Suspiri, the Bridge of Sighs, before continuing towards the impressive Doge’s Palace. After passing the beautiful building, they get a glimpse of Piazza San Marco and its campanile, but continue along the lagoon – they have tickets to the basilica on Monday, so they’ll be back.

They pass Giardini Riali, but soon after have to turn away from the canal, since they can’t get any further. Instead, they start weaving their way through the winding streets, turning at random, passing designer boutiques and souvenir shops and stores selling the local Murano glass, crossing a bridge and then another. Every single street, even the ones so narrow even Clarke can touch the buildings on either side if she stretches her arms out, is lined with shops. It’s a little dizzying, almost. Finally, Bellamy stops in the middle of a small square.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” he asks, looking around them.

Clarke glances at the tall, white building in front of them with columns marking the entrance. “Well, that’s Teatro la Fenice, so I have a general idea.”

“So where do we go from here?”

She shrugs. “I guess that depends on where we want to go. We didn’t really have a goal in mind when we set out, you know.”

“True,” he agrees, frowning. “I don’t know… Rialto Bridge? That’s, like, a big tourist spot, right?”

She gives him an amused look. “That’s what you’ve got?”

“Shut up,” Bellamy grumbles with an eye roll. “But if you want to keep wandering around aimlessly, fine by me.”

“No,” she tells him, looping her arm with his and tugging him along towards one of the streets leading off the little square. “The Rialto Bridge is on the Grand Canal, pretty much straight north from St Mark’s Place, so it should be more or less this way.”

They take a couple of wrong turns, end up on a passage that leads to a wooden dock jutting out into the canal and have to turn back the way they came, but eventually, they find their way to Riva del Carbon with the iconic bridge in the distance.

The street is lined with restaurants on one side, the water on the other, colorful boats of all shapes and sizes bobbing on the small waves cast from the water taxis and gondolas passing by.

They do the normal tourist stuff – even snapping a silly selfie of the two of them with the bridge in the distance – before crossing on one of the two covered walkways.

There aren’t quite as many tourists in this part of Venice, San Polo, but the streets are still bustling. It’s closing in on noon, and the trattorias and cafés are starting to prepare for the lunch rush, signs with today’s specials going up outside the doors, awnings being rolled out against the sun that has finally broken through the clouds.

“So, what’s your first impression of Venice?” Clarke asks as they stroll along, away from the Grand Canal and further into the jumble of streets lined by colorful buildings with wooden shutters and cute little balconies. “I know this was one of my things, and there aren’t that many historical sights, but it’s still a beautiful and unique city.”

“I love it,” Bellamy assures her, squeezing her hand. “Are you kidding? Experiencing one of the most romantic cities in the world with you, that’s… it’s amazing.”

“Are you saying Venice trumps Paris in the romance department?” she asks, giving him a questioning glance.

“I think it might,” he replies with a chuckle. “I mean, we haven’t even taken a ride in one of those gondola things yet, that’s bound to up the romance level, right?”

She can’t help but laugh at that. “What I’m hearing is that we should take one of those gondola rides. You sure your potential sea sickness will be OK with that?”

“Key word being ‘potential’,” he points out amusedly. “But even if I do get seasick, I think I’ll be OK – like you said yesterday, it’s not like the water’s very rough in these canals.”

She had secretly been hoping he might say that – she’s never taken a gondola ride before, and even though it’s a little corny and completely tourist-y, she kind of wants to do it with Bellamy anyway.

“Good. There are gondola stations all over the place, and it’s not really peak season, so we should be able to grab one without a problem.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees easily as they emerge into an open square. “So are we back to wandering aimlessly, or do you have a specific goal in mind?”

It’s clear that they’re getting further and further from the tourist areas, some of the buildings around the square appear to be abandoned, or at least not very well taken care of, and there’s scaffolding in front of one of them.

“Wandering aimlessly,” Clarke admits. “I mean, there are plenty of nice little squares and churches around here, all over the city, but I don’t have anything specific in mind, really.”

“Wandering aimlessly sounds good,” he assures her with a squeeze of her hand. “Maybe look for a nice place to grab some lunch soon?”

At Bellamy’s words, her stomach grumbles a little, making them both laugh. “Sounds like a plan.”

It takes another hour and a half, two bridges, a quick tour of a beautiful church with amazing paintings by Titian and a breathtaking view of the city from the top of the bell tower, as well as countless twists and turns before they settle in at a little trattoria overlooking yet another cute little square with a church.

“OK, so at some point, you _have_ to try Italian pizza,” Clarke says, scrutinizing the options on the menu. “It’s just amazing. But so is the pasta, of course… oh, and risotto, when it’s cooked right, is so good…”

He chuckles a little. “Well, we have, like, two weeks total in Italy, right? I’m pretty sure we’ll have time to try everything.”

“And the gelato.” She’s sure the expression on her face turns dreamy at the mere thought. “Though maybe wait until we get to Rome, hopefully the weather will be a little warmer there. There used to be this little place near Fontana di Trevi that had the best gelato in Rome, but it’s been a while since I was there.”

The smile on Bellamy’s face when she looks up from her menu is both amused and a little teasing. “Sounds like a plan, Princess.”

They put in their orders and the food arrives quickly, considering it’s still the middle of the lunch rush. Within an hour, the waitress is bringing their check and Clarke takes the opportunity to enquire after a gondola stop.

“There’s a gondola stop just a few minutes from here,” she relates once they’ve left the restaurant. “Do you want to continue strolling around a little longer, or head straight there?”

Bellamy considers for a moment. “Either’s fine with me,” he eventually says. “I don’t mind walking for a while longer, if that’s what you want, but it’s up to you.”

There’s nothing that they need to do today, they’ve hit pretty much all the interesting spots in this part of the city, and she’s starting to feel the effects of the maybe a tad too heavy pasta she ended up ordering, her eyelids drooping slightly.

“Maybe the gondola,” she decides. “Relax at the hotel for a couple of hours before we try that restaurant the receptionist recommended when we checked in last night.”

“Lead the way.”

They find the gondola station without a problem, and Clarke manages to talk the gondolier into a private and slightly longer tour than usual, to cover all the sights they want to see. He doesn’t offer any guide services, but she’s familiar enough with the city she can handle that part.

Once they’re out in the middle of the canal, she scoots over on the little bench they’re seated on. “You OK?”

Bellamy wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. “Not feeling any hints of sea sickness, so you can stop worrying.”

“OK, good.”

“This really is something else,” he mumbles after a moment, eyes darting between the buildings on either side of the water. “I can’t imagine living in a place like this.”

“No, it’s definitely a special place,” she agrees.

“I mean, the houses actually have entrances where you literally jump out of a boat and onto their stoop.”

She can’t help but laugh, not at his words but at the amazed look on his face, and he gives her a slightly sheepish smile.

“So this is Canal Grande,” she then explains, nodding ahead of them. “It’s the main canal in the city, hence the name – the Grand Canal. Most buildings along here used to belong to the rich families of the city, which is pretty obvious.”

They’re just passing the beautiful Palazzo Grassi on their left and another old palazzo, Ca’ Rezzonico, on the right, two good examples of the wealth of the canal’s old neighbors.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

They float along in silence for a while, until a beautiful, seemingly wooden bridge, comes into view.

“That’s Ponte dell'Accademia,” Clarke notes, pointing ahead. “On that side of the canal is Gallerie dell'Accademia, an art gallery with Venetian paintings up until the 18th century. They have some amazing pieces…”

“Do you want to go?” he immediately asks. “I mean, I’m not completely sure where we are right now, but I’m pretty sure we’re heading in the direction of St Mark’s Square, right? So it can’t be too far from our hotel.”

“You’re absolutely right, the square is further up on the left,” she confirms. “We’ll see about the museum, I’ve been before so it’s not really a big deal, but maybe if we have time.”

“OK. What are the big white cupolas up there? St Mark’s Basilica?”

She looks where he’s pointing. “No, that’s another church, Santa Maria… something. It’s on the other side of the canal from the square.”

They pass the church in question, its ornate façade glittering in the sun that’s almost warm by now, before leaving Canal Grande for the narrower Rio de san Moisè.

“We’re not going back to the hotel?” Bellamy asks, looking over his shoulder.

“Not yet,” she replies. “We’re taking a bit of a detour.”

“Nice.”

They both duck, automatically, when they approach a low bridge.

“I think we walked here earlier, right?” he says when they emerge on the other side, looking at the small open space to their right. “I’m sure we passed a Versace store, at least.”

“Did you want to do some shopping?” Clarke asks innocently and he rolls his eyes.

“I was just looking out for Victoria’s Secret,” he teases back. “You know, you did promise to pick something up for my birthday and it’s less than a week away.”

“God, you’re obsessed,” she replies, laughing. “I haven’t forgotten, I promise.”

”Good.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “So this is the back of all the fancy buildings we saw walking, I guess. I’ve heard about the foundations of the buildings here dissolving, and you can really see it from here.”

It’s true – the bottom few inches of most of the buildings are discolored, and in places, the concrete or bricks look almost porous.

They pass under another two bridges before taking a right, onto another narrow canal, and soon after another right. After another bridge, they emerge into a larger, open area, where a bunch of other gondolas are moored.

“St Mark’s Square is on the other side of those buildings,” she says, pointing straight ahead. “I don’t think we’ll be able to see it from here, though.”

They turn left, taking an even narrower canal that runs along the square. Clarke is really hoping they won’t meet another boat, because there’s no way it would fit. It feels like their gondola takes up most of the available space.

Luckily enough, they don’t meet anyone, and a few turns and bridges later, they suddenly emerge into the open on Canal Grande again, the Rialto bridge off to their right.

“OK, that was a lot of twists and turns,” Bellamy notes. “I honestly have no idea how we ended up here again.”

“I know, I was completely lost in there too,” she agrees. “But it should be pretty straight forward from now on, I think, we’re just heading up the Grand Canal for a bit before turning back, there are a couple of buildings I want to show you. Then we’re taking the back canals to the hotel.”

“OK, sounds good. What did you want to show me?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

They glide under the Rialto Bridge, passing a vaporetto going in the other direction.

“See that building up there?” Clarke asks a few minutes later.

“Which one?”

“The cream one, with the boarded up windows.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“It’s the oldest palazzo on the Grand Canal, maybe in Venice,” she tells him. “Ca’ da Mosto, it was built way back in the early thirteenth century.”

“Seriously? Wow, that’s eight hundred years.”

“I know, amazing, right?”

“How come it’s boarded up?”

She frowns. “I don’t know… last time I was here, it wasn’t, but that was a while ago. Maybe it’s being restored, or something.”

“It probably needs it, eight hundred years is a long time,” Bellamy reasons. “Where’s the other building you were talking about?”

“A bit further up.” They sit in silence for a few minutes, until the building comes into view. “There it is, Ca’ d’Oro. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“The white one, with all the embellishments?” he asks. “Are those crosses on the roof?”

“I’m not sure, but yeah, that one. It’s definitely my favorite building in the city.”

“I can see why.”

The gondolier takes the boat closer to the building, so they can really appreciate the colonnaded loggia and the many columns and arches, before turning back the way they came. He turns left before the Rialto Bridge, onto a canal that’s almost hidden between buildings.

“This is nice,” Bellamy says after another long moment of silence.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she replies with a laugh. “You did suggest it.”

“I _mentioned_ it,” he corrects her. “I mean, I did want to do it, but I thought it would probably be a little cheesy and really tourist-y. Which it is, I guess, but… I love getting to see all these different buildings and bridges. And sure, lots of other people do it, but it’s still nice, getting this other perspective of the city. So what if it’s tourist-y?”

“Exactly. We are tourists, after all.”

He chuckles at that.

“Have we been in this area before?” he asks a few minutes later, as they pass under another bridge.

“Not really,” Clarke replies. “Our hotel is in the Castello area, which is on our left, but we’ve been in the San Marco area so far, mostly the western parts. We did cross this canal this morning, St Mark’s Square is on the right up here and we’ll get to the Bridge of Sighs eventually, but that’s it.”

“OK, so we’ll be coming out into the basin outside our hotel.”

“Yup.”

The gondolier comes to a stop as they approach the Bridge of Sighs, giving them the opportunity to snap some photos from this angle as well. When the gondola starts moving again, he calls out to them and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“What was that?” Bellamy asks.

“Just a stupid old legend,” she replies, looking away from him and instead focusing on the water. “Something they tell tourists. If a couple kiss while they pass under the bridge, their love is supposed to last forever.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he places a finger under her chin, gently making her face him again.

“I’m not saying I believe that, but… why risk it?”

He leans in slowly, maybe expecting her to stop him – not that she ever could – and presses his lips to hers softly. She lets her eyes slide closed and sighs, and he immediately deepens the kiss.

They don’t break apart until the gondolier starts clapping behind them – Clarke had almost forgotten they were still in the boat, if she’s honest.

“There,” Bellamy says, squeezing her hip. “Eternal love, check.”

Neither of them say what they’re probably both thinking – that eternal, in their case, is only a few more months,

Even if Clarke knows that she will love him long after he’s gone.

-100-

They spend the next few hours just lounging around their room, Bellamy reading a pamphlet that he grabbed in the hotel lobby earlier – possibly trying to figure out what they’re going to do on Lido tomorrow – and Clarke just dozing for a while, leaning back against him, before checking the news. Once she’s confirmed that nothing good’s happened, she uploads some photos from the day to Facebook, including their selfie with the Rialto Bridge, before scrolling through her feed. Just as she’s about to close down the app, she gets a comment from Octavia on the selfie.

_So cute! Tell Bell I say hi_

“Your sister says hi,” she dutifully reports.

He hums. “Is she home?”

She switches to her messenger app and sends the question to Octavia, getting an affirmative response back almost immediately. “Yup.”

Bellamy shifts a little behind her, reaching for his phone on the bedside table, she realizes, so she sits up straight so she’s not leaning on him. He pulls her back against his chest a moment later, leaving his arm around her waist as he, she assumes, opens Skype on his phone.

He and Octavia have been talking regularly in the month or so since they left Ireland, at least a couple of times a week. The first time he called, Clarke offered to give them some privacy, but he insisted that he would rather have her there, so she’s been a witness to the siblings’ relationship improving even more than it already had during their week in Dublin. The first call was still a little strained, at least on Bellamy’s side – she obviously couldn’t hear Octavia’s – but even the second one was more relaxed, and by now, they’re talking like they’ve never been out of touch, both teasing the other, pushing buttons they no doubt learned while growing up together.

“Hey, O,” he now says, his voice rumbling in his chest and propagating to Clarke’s back. “You having a good Saturday?”

She can just make out Octavia’s voice over the line, if not the actual words.

“Yeah, it seems like a really nice place so far. Not as many tourists as I thought there might be, which is a relief. We’ve been exploring a bit, lots of walking, and then we took a gondola back to the hotel… yes, a gondola, one of those boats for tourists… shut up, so what if it’s a cliché?”

Clarke chuckles quietly at the put out note that’s made its way into his voice. “Is she teasing you?”

“Mm-hm. God, you’re a brat, you know that?”

Octavia’s laughter floats from the phone and Clarke has to smile, because she can see the big smile on Bellamy’s face without even having to turn around.

They continue chatting and Clarke focuses on her Instagram feed, liking a few posts from Raven and Harper.

“Shit, O, you can’t just say stuff like that!” Bellamy exclaims after a while, and she puts her phone away and half-turns to look at him. His eyebrows are raised and he’s blushing a little. “Yes, I know you’re twenty-five, that’s beside the point… please stop talking, I don’t need to know this… thank you.”

Clarke gives him a questioning look but he just shakes his head slightly.

“Right, _that’s_ why you have to go,” he then says, rolling his eyes. “Fine… yeah… love you to, O… OK, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Everything OK?” Clarke asks when he’s hung up and put his phone away.

“Yeah, just Octavia being, well, Octavia,” he tells her with a shrug, tugging her back down. She turns so she’s leaning back against him again and his arms circle her waist.

She kind of really wants to know what Octavia said that made him blush, but she decides against asking. It’s still new, this easy relationship with his sister, and she doesn’t want to butt in too much.

“She sort of…” he starts after a moment, voice deep in her ear. “She pointed out that I was in Venice, in a presumably romantic hotel room, with my girlfriend, wasting time talking to my sister when I could be… doing other stuff.”

His thumb grazes the bare sliver of skin between her jeans and t-shirt and Clarke feels a tingle of anticipation.

“Well… she’s not _wrong_ …”

He stills behind her for a moment, before his hand slips under her shirt completely, warm and rough against her skin. “Yeah?”

She likes the direction his fingers are taking along her ribcage, but she also wants to be an active participant in what’s to come, so she moves to straddle him on the bed.

“We’ve been here, in this incredibly romantic city, for almost a full day now,” she notes, undoing the top button in his shirt. “And neither of us have had an orgasm in that time.”

Bellamy chuckles, sliding his hands up and down her thighs. “That is true. We really need to amend that.”

“That’s all I’m saying.”

She finishes getting the last button undone and immediately leans in, pressing open mouthed kisses up his chest and neck until she finds his mouth. He tangles a hand in her hair and pulls her in to deepen the kiss, his other hand trailing up her back, under her shirt, and undoing her bra when he finds it.

Clarke breaks the kiss long enough to pull her shirt and bra off, recapturing his lips as soon as they’re gone. He groans into the kiss, sliding his hand around from her back to cup her breast before squeezing, and she arches her back against his touch. When he twirls her nipple between his fingers, she can’t help the whimper that escapes her, but he swallows it down.

The room is a little chilly – they cracked a window when they got back, to let some air in – and Bellamy’s hands are large and warm, making the contrast on her skin all the more noticeable. He slides the one that was buried in her hair down her back, squeezing her butt before pulling her harder against him, and she can’t stop the shiver running down her spine, whether from the cool air or the friction, she’s not completely sure.

He seems to interpret it as the former, though, and pulls away from her. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, taking the opportunity to push his shirt further off his shoulders and get working on his jeans.

“We can close the window,” he offers, still frowning up at her slightly.

Clarke has absolutely no intention of getting out of this bed before getting off at least once. She slides her hand into his jeans, palming him through his boxers, and he grinds his teeth together.

“So not a priority right now,” she breathes out before leaning in again. “Besides, I’m pretty sure we can warm each other up.”

Her position’s not the best, she has to bend her arm in a slightly uncomfortable way to be able to rub him slowly as their tongues battle, and maybe he realizes this too, because before she knows what’s really happening, he’s flipped them over so she’s flat on her back and is looming above her.

“So…” he starts, leaning down to nip at her collar bone, “about those orgasms…”

“Uh-huh,” she manages to get out before gasping when Bellamy circles her nipple with his tongue.

“Any preferences?”

She understands the words he’s saying, but he switches his attention to her other breast and sucks her nipple into his mouth and really, she can’t be expected to form any rational thoughts when he does that.

So instead of answering, she slides her hand into his hair and tries to keep him there. Not that he seems interested in moving at the moment.

He does abandon her breast after a long moment, continuing to kiss and lick his way down her stomach. Once he reaches her jeans, though, he leans his chin against her hip bone and looks up at her.

“What’s it going to be, Princess?”

He at least sounds a little breathless himself.

“Huh?”

He tuts a little, like he’s disappointed in her, but then tugs her jeans and underwear off, so she’s not going to complain.

“What do you want?” he asks once he’s settled between her legs again, placing a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh. “Hands? Mouth? Give me something to work with here.”

At this point, she’ll take anything, she just wants him to touch her, _really_ touch her.

“Mouth,” she decides, and he smiles like he’s won the lottery or something before diving right in.

The first lap of his tongue has her hips jerking off the bed, and he places an arm over her stomach, holding her down, before repeating the motion.

It’s not long before Clarke’s panting and squirming against his hold, desperate for more, and just when she thinks she can’t take it any longer, he shifts slightly, sliding two fingers deep inside her and focusing his mouth on her clit, and she’s gone.

When she’s come down enough to notice her surroundings again, Bellamy’s working his way back up her stomach and then ribcage, mouth and tongue hot and wet against her skin. When he reaches her breasts, he pulls a nipple into his mouth at the same time as he grinds his hips against hers, and she realizes he must have gotten rid of his jeans and underwear at some point.

“Good?” he asks quietly before kissing her softly.

“Amazing,” she replies honestly, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him down and shifting her hips a little so he just needs to push forward to slide right into her. They both sigh when he bottoms out, eyes locked.

“Love you, Princess,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Love you too,” she replies, bending her leg to get some purchase and pushing up against him. “Now move.”

He chuckles at her request, but obeys, and Clarke lets out a moan when he thrusts into her again, harder than before. She in turn wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and is rewarded with a groan. She pulls him in for another kiss, this one messier, and digs her heels into his back, urging him on. Finally, he starts moving in earnest, pulling low whimpers from her with each thrust, and in minutes – or maybe hours, she honestly can’t tell – she can tell that they’re both close.

“Come on, Bell,” she murmurs into his ear, squeezing her internal muscles around him. “Let go.”

He buries his face against her throat, and she feels a ragged breath against her skin. Then he slips a hand between them, finding her clit easily. “Ladies first.”

Another thrust and she’s tumbling over the edge again, feeling him follow a moment later.

He collapses on top of her as they both struggle to catch their breaths, and she wraps both arms tightly around him.

“So, Venice sex,” Bellamy says after a long moment, nosing at her chin. “Better than Paris sex?”

She can’t help but laugh. “I think it’s a tie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	33. Hold Fast to the Break of Daylight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more Venice before we continue to Rome! Hope you’re all enjoying the European tour so far :)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “The Shadow Proves the Sunshine” by Switchfoot

They venture out for dinner a little later, before returning to the hotel for some more sex and, eventually, sleep.

All in all, Clarke thinks, a pretty awesome Saturday in Venice.

The rain is pouring down when they wake up on Sunday.

“The downside of travelling through Europe in the winter, I guess,” she notes blearily, blinking at the window where Bellamy’s just pushed the curtains to the side to let what little light there is into the room.

“It could be worse,” he replies, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. “It could be snowing. Or it could be a hundred degrees outside. I prefer a bit of rain to both of those.”

“Mmmm,” she hums in agreement, snuggling closer and burying her face against his chest. “Still not ideal for island hopping.”

His arm goes around her and he pulls her even closer, half on top of him.

“True. Do we need all day for that?”

They’ve bought two-day travel cards for the water buses and were planning on doing south and south-east – Giudecca, San Giorgio Maggiore and Lido – today and north and north-east – Murano and Burano – tomorrow.

“Probably not,” she decides. “Definitely not if it’s raining, we’d just be hurrying around anyway.”

“Then I vote for staying in bed until the rain lets up,” he says, squeezing her butt.

“And what if it rains all day?”

He pushes her back a little, so they’re both on their sides, facing each other, and hitches her leg over his hip.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to stay in bed… all… day… long,” he replies, punctuating the last four words with kisses, starting at her mouth and finishing at her collar bone.

“Good plan,” Clarke agrees, sliding her hand into his hair when he tugs the neckline of her t-shirt down and places an open mouthed kiss on her breast.

Her stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly, and Bellamy pulls back, laughing.

“After breakfast?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

He pinches her side before pushing himself out of bed and she throws a pillow at him before following. Sure, she _is_ hungry, but on the other hand… sex.

Breakfast is nice, of course, and they’re back in their room soon enough, making sure that the ‘Do not disturb’ sign is on the door before falling back into bed.

The rain finally stops around noon, and they – or at least Clarke – reluctantly put on actual clothes and leave the hotel.

“Come on, this is what we’re here for,” Bellamy tells her amusedly as they cross the open space outside their hotel to one of the ferry stations on the basin. “I mean, you know I’m all for sex, but we’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

“Should I be offended that you prefer sightseeing to sex?” she asks, trying to hide her grin.

“Not _prefer_ ,” he objects, tugging her in by the hand to be able to wrap an arm around her waist. “Trust me – if I had to choose between sex and sightseeing, sex would win, hands down. But I don’t, so we can do both.”

She heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I guess.”

She ends up having a great time, of course, but it’s still fun to mess with him a little.

The first boat ride is only a few minutes and then they stroll around San Giorgio for a while, checking out the beautiful church they saw from the gondola yesterday, all the – more or less weird – pieces of art along the harbor and a labyrinth hidden between the buildings, before continuing to Giudecca. They get off at the first stop they get to and just wander along the water, admiring the buildings and the view of Venice across the water. When they get hungry, they grab some lunch, and then just continue exploring until they reach the other end of the island.

Lido is a bit further away, and they have to go by several ferry stops both on Giudecca and in Venice proper, as well as switch ferries before they finally reach it half an hour or so later.

“So what do you do on Lido?” Bellamy asks when they’ve gotten off the ferry.

Clarke frowns. “Honestly, I think the beach is the main draw, normally.”

“Maybe not today.”

The weather has improved during the afternoon, the sun has even managed to chase most of the clouds away, but it’s definitely not warm enough for a day at the beach.

“Nope.”

They check out the war memorial close to the ferry station before heading down the main street towards the beach, where they follow the promenade south. She can definitely see why the beach would be a nice spot to visit during the summer, but even though the sun is shining down on the sandy stretch and the water is glittering beyond it, the temperature has barely cleared fifty, so it’s still not very inviting.

They continue until they hit a wall, and then they take a right and eventually find their way to the other side of the long, narrow island, heading back the way they came.

By the time they reach the ferry station again, the sun has definitely started to set, casting a golden glow over the islands dotted in the distance. The ferry arrives within minutes, and they easily find spots in the half-full cabin.

“So… good afternoon?” Bellamy gives her a sideways glance that anyone else would probably miss.

“Great afternoon,” she assures him, leaning her head against his shoulder, and feels him let out a breath.

She’s pretty sure he realized that she was joking about the sex over sightseeing thing earlier, but he’s such a worrywart, it probably bothered him a little anyway.

“Good.”

Still, it seems like he wants to make sure that she really doesn’t feel like he picked an afternoon of sightseeing over staying in bed with her – they don’t leave their room for the rest of the evening, and he insists that they order room service for dinner and doesn’t let her out of bed except to use the bathroom.

And, well, it’s not like she’s going to say _no_ to that.

The sky is still blue and the sun is shining when they get up on Monday, and it even feels like the temperature has risen a little, so they get an early start after breakfast with a nice walk to a ferry station on the north shore of the city.

On a whim, Clarke suggests that they make a quick stop on the island of San Michele, which functions as the main cemetery of Venice.

“Is it weird that we’ve visited…” she pauses to count, “three cemeteries so far?”

Bellamy considers her question for a moment. “Isn’t it four?” he then asks. “The one in Glasgow, the one in Paris, the American cemetery and memorial near Omaha beach, and this one.”

“Right, I’d forgotten the one in Normandy,” she replies. “So that’s even weirder.”

He squeezes her hand as they leave the dock. “I wouldn’t say _weird_ … after Octavia left and before I moved in with Miller, I used to come to the cemetery in Paterson a lot. To visit Mom’s grave, of course, but also… it was a peaceful place, you know? Somewhere I could just forget, for a while.”

She offers him a smile that she hopes is comforting. “I do know. I’ve always found cemeteries beautiful, in some strange way… and, like you said, peaceful. And I like visiting different graves, learning about traditions from around the world. Did you know that in some Buddhist areas, like Tibet, the bodies of loved ones are cut into pieces and left for animals to pick clean?”

He grimaces a little. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“They believe that the body is just a vessel, so when the spirit inhabiting it has moved on, it’s empty, and the ritual, they call it sky burial, is an act of charity and compassion.”

“I guess I can see that. I mean, we burn our dead, what’s so much better about that?”

“Exactly.” They continue in silence for a while, before Clarke speaks again. “Do you know what region your dad was from, by the way? I know Taytay is in Rizal, but was he from there originally?”

“I have no idea, actually,” he replies. “I only got Taytay from his passport, it’s listed as place of birth, so he was at least born there, but I suppose his family could have been from somewhere else. Why?”

“Just another odd funeral tradition I remembered, from the Cavite region, just south of Manila. In some rural areas, people are buried in hollowed out tree trunks, which the person chooses before they die.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “That’s just… so weird. And what happens if the person dies in an accident or something, and doesn’t have a chance to pick a tree they like?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “I suppose someone else would have to pick one for them.

“Weird…”

There’s hardly any people on the island, not strange since it’s only half past nine on a Monday, and they stroll around the different areas of the cemetery mostly in silence, Clarke now and then commenting on something. There are many different types of graves – traditional ones with tombstones, columbaria, crypts…

Bellamy mostly offers hums of agreement or one word responses, and when they’re heading back towards the ferry, she looks up at him to find his brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

He glances at her and lets out a sigh. “Just… I should probably think about this stuff, right?”

“Why?”

He just raises his eyebrows, which draws her attention to his Number – 138. Her stomach does an unpleasant flop. “Right…”

“I did give it some thought back when Mom died,” he continues. “She didn’t have a will or anything, and she never talked about it, so we had no idea what she wanted. In the end, it came down to cost – Mom’s insurance covered some of it, but not everything, and cremation was just a lot cheaper, it was really the only option… but Octavia insisted on an actual plot, and we somehow managed to get enough money for it.”

“Is it just a single plot, or…” Clarke doesn’t finish the sentence, can’t say the words out loud – _is there enough space for someone else_ _?_

“Yeah, it’s a single, and I…” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Is it bad if I don’t want to be buried there? It’s my hometown, or the closest I have, at least, but I just… I got out. It would almost feel like going backwards, if I end up there anyway.”

She lets go of his hand so she can wrap both arms around him. It’s not an ideal walking position, but she doesn’t care. His arm comes around her shoulders as well. “It’s not bad,” she assures him. “There’s nothing right or wrong in this type of situation, the only thing that matters is what _you_ want, OK?”

He nods a little. “Yeah.”

“And you don’t have to decide anything right now,” she continues, swallowing down a lump in her throat. “Just… when you figure it out, let me know or… write it down or something, OK?”

She knows that they will have to think about it, talk about it, before he… _before_. And maybe she should have been prepared for this, should have been thinking about it herself, to be able to help him figure it out, but she’s just… well, she’s been trying to not think about _any_ of this, so she just hasn’t.

Bellamy stops to be able to lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips, maybe sensing the war going on inside her. “I will. OK, time to talk about something else, because this is getting depressing – Murano, is that the one with the glassmaking?”

She’s grateful for the change of subject and tries to push everything else aside during the short boat trip to Murano. As soon as they get off the ferry, Bellamy pulls her along to the lighthouse right by the station, stopping at the foot of the high tower and tilting his head back to take it all in, and she can’t help but smile at the excited look on his face.

They check out glass blowing at one of the factories on the island – Clarke has seen it before, but Bellamy seems fascinated by the process of shaping glass – explore both sides of the Grand Canal and grab some lunch before wrapping the visit up with a tour of the glass museum.

Burano is a briefer stop, they basically just stroll around for a while, check out the colorful houses along the canals, stop to watch some little old ladies making lace here and there, and fulfill the tourist requirement by taking photos of each other pretending to prop up the bell tower of the church, which is leaning slightly – not as bad as the more famous leaning tower of Pisa, but enough to make it fun to play around a little.

They’re back at the ferry station by a little after four, and since the weather is still nice, they decide to take a bit of a detour and hop on the ferry going the opposite way. The trip takes them through more of the Venetian archipelago, past mostly uninhabited islands until they reach Punta Sabbioni, which is actually on the Italian mainland, where they have to switch boats. The second leg of the journey, they follow the shoreline of Lido for a while, and then they’re back in Venice.

“No seasickness today either,” Clarke notes when they’ve disembarked at the station right by their hotel.

Bellamy laughs. “I think we can safely say I am _not_ prone to seasickness.”

“Yup,” she agrees. “So you up for trying pizza tonight?”

“Sure. Know any good places?”

She thinks for a moment. “There was a great place near the Rialto Bridge last time I was here,” she says. “But that was in the early nineties, so I wouldn’t bet on it still being there.”

“Maybe we can ask the receptionist if they can recommend something.”

They do, getting the name of a restaurant just a few minutes away, which has some of the best pizza in Venice, according to the young woman at reception. Clarke’s frankly amazed that she manages to tell them anything at all, with how much she’s smiling and batting her eyelashes at Bellamy.

“Seriously, am I invisible or something?” she asks when they’re climbing the stairs to their room.

“What?” He frowns at her question.

“Did you not notice that she was practically eye-fucking you?”

He snorts. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. She was just being friendly.”

“Right, friendly…” she grumbles.

“Hey.” He reaches for her hand and pulls her to a stop. “I’m sorry, if you say she was flirting, she probably was. I just didn’t notice.”

She raises a questioning eyebrow, because really, it was _so_ obvious.

“No, hear me out,” he continues. “I didn’t notice, because I don’t _care_.”

OK, that’s a pretty good reason. “I don’t even know why I care,” Clarke sort of exclaims. “I’m not a jealous person.”

“I know,” he replies, squeezing her hand before tugging her along down the hallway towards their room. “Honestly, if I had noticed, I probably would have been pissed. I mean, we’re obviously together, who flirts with someone right in front of their partner? Especially someone in the service industry. Being nice is one thing, but straight out flirting is just bad customer service.”

“Right?” She does feel her annoyance fade, which is a relief. She really isn’t prone to jealousy and doesn’t know where it came from.

“But you know you don’t have anything to worry about, right?” Bellamy asks when they’ve reached their room.

She offers him a reassuring smile before flopping onto the bed. “Of course I do. Like I said, I don’t usually get jealous, I don’t know why I did this time. I feel a little silly, to be honest.”

“Don’t. If some Italian hottie was flirting with you, I’d probably get jealous too.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, so she was hot, was she?”

He rolls his eyes. “I was talking hypothetically.”

“Sure you were.” She’s kidding. Mostly.

He joins her on the bed, turning onto his side so he can look at her, and runs a finger up her thigh. “Do I need to remind you how much I love you?”

“Hmm…” She pretends to think it over for a moment. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

And, oh, he does.

They do need sustenance, and despite Clarke suggesting room service again, Bellamy is adamant that they really try the pizza the girl at reception suggested. She grudgingly agrees, dragging herself out of bed and pulling on some clothes before following him out of the room.

Instead of continuing through the lobby and out the door, though, he pulls her to a stop just inside it, in plain view of the reception desk.

“What’re you…” she starts, but is cut off when he leans down and claims her lips in a kiss that is probably just a shade inappropriate for a public space. She returns it anyway, of course, because there’s really not a scenario in which she _wouldn’t_ want to kiss him, stepping a little closer to get a better angle. His hand slides around her waist and settles against her back, and she fists her hand in his shirt.

They finally break apart when someone clears their throat next to them, and find a middle aged couple a few feet away. The man looks ruffled, blotches of red visible above the collar of his jacket, but the woman is smiling at them.

“City of love,” she stage-whispers as they pass, and Clarke has to bite back on a chuckle.

“So what was that?” she asks once they’re out in the open air.

Bellamy shrugs. “Just wanted to make it clear who I’m with.”

It might be silly, but it makes a warmth settle in her stomach. She squeezes his arm. “I love you, you know that?”

She feels his lips press briefly against her temple. “I do. I love you.”

The pizza is just as amazing as she hoped, and they linger at the cozy little restaurant for a while, enjoying some fantastic local wine and even indulging in dessert, splitting some tiramisu and panna cotta – they are in Italy, after all.

Their final full day in the city, they finally get to St Mark’s Square. They have tickets to the Basilica for eleven in the morning, so they won’t have to wait in line, but still head over as soon as they’ve had breakfast, strolling around the square, checking out the beautiful buildings, the campanile and, of course, the church itself. There are a few little carts selling souvenirs here and there, and they browse a little, even though Bellamy’s already bought a beautiful, heart shaped pendant made of Murano glass for Octavia, and Clarke’s not really looking for anything since Raven’s been to Venice.

The Basilica is just as impressive as Clarke remembers, and the look on Bellamy’s face when he takes in the golden mosaic covering the walls and ceiling just after they enter the church is just amazing.

“This is…” he starts, but doesn’t seem to be able to find the right words.

“I know,” she agrees, tilting her head back to take it in. “There’s a reason it’s called the Golden Basilica.”

“I can see that.” He shakes his head disbelievingly. “I can’t believe it’s… how old again?”

She opens the information folder she grabbed at the entrance and quickly finds the information. “Most of the mosaics in the domes date from between 1160 and 1200, so almost nine hundred years.”

“Jesus.” He snaps his mouth shut, glancing around. “Is it OK to say that in here? I don’t want to, like, offend anyone.”

Clarke pats his arm comfortingly. “I think you’re good.”

They continue strolling around, taking in all the amazing décor in the different rooms. Once they’ve both had their fill, they continue to the museum next door, to check out the original bronze horses, before climbing to the balcony stretching along the front of the Basilica, where reproductions of the same horses keep an eye on the square below.

“Lunch?” Bellamy suggests when they leave the museum and emerge into the sunny afternoon. “When do we have tickets for the Doge’s Palace?”

She checks the electronic ticket on her phone. “Three, so we have plenty of time for lunch.”

Since the cafés and restaurants on St Mark’s Square are known for being ridiculously expensive, they venture away from the square, finding a little hole-in-the-wall place just a few minutes away.

The Doge’s Palace is another hour of amazing art and décor, the gilded and painted ceilings making both of them crane their necks almost continually. The old prison cells are a stark contrast, dank and bare.

Since they’ve also booked the secret itineraries tour, they then get to step behind the scenes and visit the old torture chamber, venture down secret passageways and cross the Bridge of Sighs.

“We were down there the other day,” Bellamy notes when they’re stopped on the bridge, peeking through the small openings in the structure.

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees.

“So do they say something about kissing _on_ the Bridge of Sighs?” he asks after a moment.

She can’t help but let out a brief laugh. “I don’t know but… why risk it?”

He smiles at her reiteration of his words from their gondola tour under the bridge and then leans down to kiss her, nothing too intimate, just a soft press of lips.

-100-

Clarke wakes up with sunlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains on their last morning in Venice. For a moment, she’s confused as to what she’s looking at, but then she realizes that Bellamy’s sitting propped up against the headboard, and she’s sort of snuggling with his hip.

“Morning,” he greets her amusedly when she looks up at him.

“Morning,” she replies. “What’re you doing? You know the train to Rome doesn’t leave until after three, right? We’re not in any hurry.”

“I know,” he confirms, eyes returning to the screen of his cell phone, which he has in his hand and is… writing on? “I’m just checking out some stuff to do in Rome.”

Clarke frowns as she pushes herself up on her elbow to be able to peek at his phone. “You know I already have all that done, right? All the tickets are booked. I mean, we have a couple of free days, so if you’ve found something else, we should be able to fit it in, but not a whole bunch of things.”

“Yeah, but this is none-ticket stuff,” he tells her. “I’m planning my birthday.”

“I thought you just wanted to check out the city, stroll around aimlessly?” she reminds him.

Bellamy shrugs. “I decided I wanted some structure.”

“OK, show me what you’ve got.”

“So this is our hotel,” he says, pointing in the bottom right corner of the map on the screen, right next to the circle indicating the Colosseum. This might be the hotel Clarke is looking forward to the most – apart from the actual luxury hotels – since their room will have an amazing view of the Colosseum, something she hasn’t told Bellamy yet. She can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees it. “I figure we head along this street, with the Roman Forum on one side. Piazza Venezia is up here, with the Vittoriano. I know we have tickets to that on Saturday, so we’ll just check out the exterior. Then we’ll take a left and eventually get to Piazza Navona.”

Clarke nods. “OK, sounds good. And from there we’ll stroll around aimlessly?”

“More or less.” He skips to another screenshot of a map of the city. “I figure the final goal would be the Spanish steps, up there, with the Pantheon – just the exterior if there’s too much people, if not, we can get that out of the way while we’re there – and Fontana di Trevi along the way.”

“Great.” She looks closer at the screen. “What’re all the red dots? Tezenis… Yamamay… Intimissimi?”

Bellamy blushes a little. “They’re, uh… underwear stores.”

She just stares at him for a long moment, watching as he becomes more and more uncomfortable. Finally, she can’t take it anymore and bursts out laughing, flopping back down on the bed.

“Seriously?” she asks when she’s gotten her laughter under control.

He rolls his eyes, clearly not embarrassed for getting caught anymore. “What? I just wanted to know the lay of the land before we get there. I’m helping.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, focusing back on his phone.

Something occurs to her and she pushes herself up so she’s sitting cross legged on the bed. “How long have you been awake, anyway, if you already have the whole day planned?

“A while,” he admits, looking a little sheepish. “I just, I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep… we’re going to _Rome_!”

She sort of wants to laugh again, but he looks so earnest that she bites it back. “I know. So I guess we’re going with even more enthusiastic about Rome, huh?”

“I wasn’t sure but… yeah,” he agrees easily. “Expect full out kid-on-Christmas levels of excitement when we actually get there. Seriously, I won’t blame you if you’re sick of me by the time we leave and want to cancel the rest of this trip.”

“Yeah, that could never happen.” She leans over and steals a kiss before getting out of bed. “Come on, time for our last Venetian breakfast.”

They’ve done everything they were planning in the city, so they take their time at breakfast and then go back to the room to pack and… well, do other things.

Clarke paid for late checkout, since their train doesn’t leave until almost half past three in the afternoon, so they don’t have to check out and figure out what to do while dragging their luggage around, which is a relief. Now, they just head down to the lobby to check out at two thirty and hop on the vaporetto to the train station.

She’s never really seen the Italian country side before, so the train ride is a new, nice experience. And, if she’s honest, the best part might be watching Bellamy get more and more excited the closer they get to the capital. Once they’re actually within the city limits, he can barely sit still in the seat, and he bounds up as soon as the train’s come to a stop at the station.

Fortunately – or maybe _un_ fortunately for Bellamy, who would no doubt love a complete tour of the city – the cab ride to the hotel is just fifteen minutes. They’re dropped off literally across the street from the Colosseum, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at the lit up building.

“You OK?” Clarke asks, voice only a little amused, when it’s been a few minutes.

He shakes his head, as if trying to snap out of a daze. “Fine, sorry… it’s just… this has been a dream since I was, I don’t know, eight? I think it’s going to take a while before it actually sinks in that I’m really here.”

She slips her hand into his and squeezes. “Then I guess it’s a good thing we have a week to do that.”


	34. Ett andetag, den tid du har kvar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the first part of the Rome visit, and the big B-day! Hope you like it
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> So I tried to find a phrase from one of the many happy birthday songs there are for the chapter title, but I couldn’t find one I liked… so I’m going with a Swedish one that I love. The phrase is basically “a breath, the time you have left” (which felt appropriate) from the song “Ja må du leva idag” (pretty much “happy birthday today”) by the Swedish singer/songwriter Darin. Check him out, he has a bunch of songs in English too (including a pretty good cover of Coldplay’s ‘Viva la vida’) if you for some inexplicable reason don’t understand Swedish ;)
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

To Clarke’s complete lack of surprise, Bellamy is already awake when she wakes up on his birthday. What she hadn’t expected was that he would also be out of bed, sitting in the padded window seat and gazing out at the view.

“Hey,” she mumbles, pushing her hair out of her face and blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the window. “What are you doing up? I wanted to start the day with some birthday sex.”

He turns to look at her, the sun backlighting him and making it hard to make out his features. She can still tell that he’s smiling, though. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replies. “Happy birthday. Come back to bed.”

He chuckles but does get up and crosses to the bed. He does not, however, get back in it, instead just leans down to kiss her once before pulling back.

“Not that your idea doesn’t sound amazing,” he starts, “but you’ve actually slept pretty late, it’s almost nine, and I…”

“… want to get started on exploring,” she finishes for him, unable to keep the smile off her face.

“Kind of,” he agrees, the look on his face turning a little sheepish. “Is that OK? I promise I’ll submit to all the birthday sex you want tonight…”

“Oh, is that right?” She heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, I guess it _is_ your birthday, so if you want to turn down amazing birthday morning sex, that’s your prerogative.”

Bellamy just laughs at that, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, babe.”

She doesn’t get out of bed right away though, instead relaxing back against the soft pillows and watching as he pulls off the t-shirt and sweatpants he must have put on so as not to sit in the window practically naked. When he’s pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt instead, he turns around to watch her amusedly as he buttons the shirt.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks with a smirk.

Clarke smiles, unconcerned. “Yup.”

He snorts a laugh before abruptly pulling the comforter off her. “Show’s over, time to get up.”

“Fine,” she agrees, extending her arms over her head and arching off the bed a little, her spine cracking slightly at the stretch. She’s only wearing a pair of panties, and she can see the way Bellamy’s eyes darken slightly at the sight, but then he rolls his eyes.

“Nice try.”

She sighs. “It was worth a shot.”

They grab a quick breakfast at a café just around the corner, since the hotel doesn’t have an in-house restaurant, before Bellamy takes the lead along the street that circles the Colosseum. Clarke keeps her arm firmly looped through his, though, to keep him on the sidewalk since he seems unable to tear his eyes from the – admittedly amazing – building to their left.

“Is it starting to sink in yet?” she asks when they’ve left the amphitheater behind. “That we’re really here?”

He glances over his shoulder, where the building is still visible. “I think it is, yeah,” he replies. “I don’t know if it was the whole waking up here, or what, but it feels… more real today, somehow.”

She squeezes his arm. “Good.”

The walk to Piazza Navona isn’t too long, according to Google Maps it should take half an hour or so, but in reality it’s probably closer to an hour since there’s stuff to see everywhere along the way. Churches, ruins of old buildings, statues, excavated areas right next to the sidewalk with all kinds of architectural finds… Clarke’s really starting to get what Bellamy meant by Rome being full of remnants of the old empire, even away from the ‘normal’ tourist attractions.

“This is so cool,” she notes when they’re leaning over the railing, looking down at one of those areas.

“Right?” he agrees next to her, eyes darting between the unearthed columns and various other stone objects below them. “It’s just… people used to _live_ here, thousands of years ago. People just like us, going about their regular lives, and now, so many years later, we’re here… to me, _this_ is history, this is what makes it _real_. The fact that we can look at a little piece of stone or pottery or whatever and find out so much about what happened thousands of years ago.”

There’s awe in his voice and when Clarke turns to be able to look at him, he’s not really looking at the site below anymore but staring into the distance, eyes unfocused. She moves closer, and he automatically wraps his arm around her so she can lean her head against his shoulder.

They stay there for a minute longer before Bellamy straightens and takes her hand. “Come on, more to see!”

Piazza Navona isn’t too busy yet. The restaurants won’t open for the lunch rush for a while, some of the street artists seem to have only just arrived and are setting up their easels, preparing for the day’s tourists, and a guy with his face and hands painted gold, wearing gold pants, shoes and a jacket – one of those living statues, she realizes after a moment – is sitting on his pedestal. They stroll from one end to the other, checking out the different fountains and buildings surrounding the square, before leaving it again.

“OK, where now?” Clarke asks, stopping on the corner.

Bellamy checks the map he saved to his phone and turns right. “This way, I think.” They follow the street for a minute or two before he pauses, checking the narrow street to their left. “I think this is the one I looked up.”

“So this is where all the good underwear stores are?” she asks, giving him a teasing smirk.

He rolls his eyes but pulls her along down the street. “No, most of those are after the Pantheon.” He pauses. “You know you don’t have to do that, right? Get something just because it’s my birthday. I know I was all… but it was mostly just a joke.”

She squeezes his hand. “I know that, silly,” she assures him. “But it is your birthday and I want to make it special.”

“It’s already the best birthday I’ve ever had,” he replies.

“Good. I still want to do this, though, and not just for you. It’s a present for me too.”

He gives her a scrutinizing look. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive. And I won’t go out of my way or anything, I’ll just check the stores we pass – if I don’t find anything I like, you’re out of luck.”

He laughs at that. “OK.” They’ve reached the open space in front of the Pantheon by now, and as soon as Bellamy shifts his focus from her, he stops abruptly to take in the building in front of them. “Wow…”

Clarke stops too, her eyes following his to the round structure almost hidden by the columned portico at the front, the fountain in the foreground. It’s certainly an impressive building, in all its simplicity.

“There’s not that much people here,” she notes after a few minutes of silence. “You want to take a look inside, so we don’t have to worry about making it back here if we’re not in the area again?” She’s sure they will be, they have another six full days in the city, but still.

“Sure,” he agrees immediately.

The inside is a bit more ornate than the outside, just like Clarke remembers. The actual dome is basic, coffered concrete, but the walls and pillars below it are decorated and the marble floor is a real piece of art. Bellamy’s eyes, however, are drawn to the opening in the ceiling, through which sunlight is streaming.

“Did you know that the purpose of the oculus wasn’t just to let light into a building?” he says after a moment. “It was also so that you could see the sky when you were inside, so that you could feel closer to the heavens or something.”

She did know that, actually, but she loves seeing him get excited when he gets to explain something. “I didn’t, but that’s interesting.”

He flashes her a quick, beaming smile. “And the floor is tilting a little, so rainwater would run off to the drains. The oculus was never covered, so I can imagine it’s not much fun to come here during the rainier months.”

“Now I’m even happier that the weather decided to cooperate today,” Clarke notes, only half-joking.

From the Pantheon, they head in the general direction of Fontana di Trevi, emerging onto Via del Corso, one of the main shopping streets in the area. They both stop, considering which way to turn.

“I think it’s sort of… that way,” Bellamy says after a moment, pointing kind of diagonally at the building across the street. “So I’m thinking left and then right two streets down or something?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she agrees, looking around. “But didn’t you have a bunch of stores marked in this area?”

He gives her a look with raised eyebrows. “We don’t have to go _looking_ for them, I’m sure we’ll pass one on the way somewhere.”

“I was planning on getting gelato at Fontana di Trevi, if the place I remember is still there,” she explains. “So I’d kind of like to get the trying stuff on out of the way before that. Give me your phone.”

He huffs, but does unlock his phone and hand it over, and she finds the map he saved.

“There’s one just at the other end of the block,” she concludes, handing the phone back. “Do you want an input on what I get, or do you want it to be a surprise?”

He thinks it over for a moment. “Surprise, I think.”

“I’ll try to be quick,” she promises, reaching up for a quick kiss. “You’ll be somewhere around here?”

“Yup.”

The store is fairly empty, two preteen girls giggling over a rack of corsets in one corner while a clerk behind the counter keeps an eye on them and another one is folding panties on a display table in the middle of the store. When she hears the door opening and closing, she straightens up and greets Clarke with a smile.

“Good morning,” she says with a heavy Italian accent. “How can I help you today, _signorina_?”

Clarke does a quick sweep of the store and decides there are a couple of things she could go for. “It’s my boyfriend’s birthday and I would like to get something to make it… special,” she replies, switching to Italian.

The girl looks a little relieved. “Of course. What did you have in mind?”

“Some sort of matching set, but I’m not picky.” She glances down at her chest. “I might be a little limited by your sizes, so I’ll try on whatever you think would look good.”

The girl gives her a scrutinizing look as well. “Yes, some of our models might not be available in your size,” she agrees. “Come, let me take your measurements and I’ll find something.”

She follows the girl to the changing rooms and lets her do the measuring she needs.

“Any color preferences?” the clerk asks when she’s jotted the numbers down.

Clarke considers the question for a moment. “Blue, maybe?” She knows Bellamy likes her in blue, and the dress she’s wearing tonight is blue. “Not too light or too dark, somewhere in the middle. Oh, and nothing that’s too high in the neck, my dress is cut down to here.” She shows with her hand how low-cut the neckline is, and the clerk nods and disappears.

It doesn’t really take more than fifteen minutes or so, from the time that she entered the store to when she leaves it with her purchase. She ended up getting a beautiful set with a lace bra – a little less support than she normally wears and prefers, but it’ll be fine for one night – Brazilian briefs and even a garter belt in a shade of blue that’s leaning slightly towards purple. She felt amazing in it, and she’s sure Bellamy’s jaw will drop when he sees her.

Part of her wants to just drag him back to the hotel right now, but she knows he’s looking forward to the sightseeing.

He’s leaning against the wall pretty much where she left him, his mouth tugging up into a smile when he spots her.

“Find anything?” he asks, looking for a bag.

“Yup, all done,” she confirms, patting her messenger bag, where she put her purchase. “And don’t even think about peeking – you’ll have to wait until tonight.”

He chuckles and wraps an arm around her waist. “That’s fine, I don’t mind trying to imagine what you might have picked out the rest of the day.” He brushes his thumb against the side of her breast through her clothes, and she can’t help but shiver a little at the touch. Then he leans down to whisper in her ear. “Build up some anticipation.”

It’s really, _really_ hard not to just grab him and physically drag him back to the hotel, but Clarke does have _some_ self-control.

Not a lot, not in this situation, but enough so she can resist.

Fontana di Trevi is just as beautiful as she remembers, and they give in to the tourist hype and throw coins over their shoulders into the fountain. Clarke’s glad that this tradition isn’t the standard, throw-a-coin-and-make-a-wish type of thing, because she knows what she’d wish for and it wouldn’t make any difference.

“So what did the three coins mean?” Bellamy asks when they’re moving away from the crowds right by the fountain towards the edge of the square, where a sign announcing gelato is calling them.

“The first one is to ensure you return to Rome,” she explain. “The second is for a new romance, and the third for marriage.”

“Hmm…” he hums, interlacing their fingers and squeezing. “I wouldn’t mind coming back, but I’m all set with my old romance, thanks.”

They both know that he won’t return to Rome, but Clarke refuses to think about that, especially today, and chooses to instead focus on the second part.

“You sure? This is your chance to pick up some hot Italian girl…” she says, giving him a sideways glance.

He chuckles. “Do _you_ want to pick up a hot Italian girl?”

“Hmm…” She pretends to think it over for a moment. “I think I’m good. Unless you want a threesome for your birthday, of course.”

“Yeah, threesomes are one of those things that _sound_ good on paper but never turn out much fun,” Bellamy replies.

“Is that an educated guess, or do you have some personal experience with failed threesomes?” she asks amusedly.

“Personal experience,” he admits. “This girl I dated senior year of high school, Mel, she suggested it when we had been sleeping together for a while and I was all excited, but in the end, it was basically her and her friend making out while I watched. Which was cool, you know, what straight seventeen-year-old guy would say no to that, but she dumped me the next day and started dating her friend instead, so…”

Clarke can’t help but laugh a little at that. “At least you helped her figure out her sexuality,” she offers as a sort of comfort.

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” he agrees. “So no to a threesome, if that’s OK with you.”

They’ve reached the line to the gelateria by now and she lets go of his hand to be able to wrap her arms around his waist instead, looking up at him. “Well, I’ve had some pretty good experiences with threesomes,” she tells him. “So I know it can be great, if everyone’s on the same page.”

“Really?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t sound so surprised, I was at Woodstock. But I’ve never actually done it with someone I’m in a relationship with, which might be different… I’m not really that good at sharing. So just you and me sounds perfect.”

A smile flashes over Bellamy’s face briefly before he leans down for a kiss. “Good.”

They get some gelato before continuing towards the Spanish Steps, where they snap some photos before settling down about halfway up to enjoy the sunshine for a moment. It’s warmed up quite a bit by now, and Clarke even takes her sweater off.

“It’s not even one o’clock yet,” she notes after a while. “What do you want to do the rest of the day?”

He frowns, considering her question for a moment. “I don’t know. Most of the other stuff we’re doing we have tickets for, right? So we can’t just change it around.”

She goes through the activities they have planned in her head. “Most, yeah. I had the Pantheon and Villa Borghese down for Saturday, after Vittoriano. We already did the Pantheon, we could just get the park done today too, then we won’t have to go back to this area on Saturday and could maybe explore Trastevere or something instead? There’s some beautiful architecture in that neighborhood, and the botanical gardens.”

“Is it close by?”

“Yeah, it should be, hang on…” She pulls her phone out and checks Google Maps. “Just a ten minute walk, so pretty close by, yeah.”

“Sounds good. Maybe lunch first?”

She agrees and they grab some food at a nice little restaurant by the square before setting off towards the park.

The sunshine seems to have attracted locals and tourists alike, some of which have apparently decided to celebrate the nice weather with a picnic.

It’s a beautiful park, lots of greenery interspersed with little piazzas, statues and buildings. Clarke’s never really explored the park itself before – she’s visited the museum, which they decide against today, but that’s about it. So they just stroll around, following paths at random, turning when they feel like it, stopping when something catches their fancy. She’s honestly not keeping track of the time at all, so it’s Bellamy that eventually suggests that maybe they should start thinking about heading back to the hotel.

“You said we had dinner reservations for seven, right?”

It’s the only restaurant reservation she’s made for the whole trip, but she found a fancy-but-not-too-fancy restaurant literally a stone’s throw from their hotel, promising views of the Colosseum, and she wanted to make sure they got a table for Bellamy’s birthday.

“We do, yeah. What time is it?”

“A little after four thirty, I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get back to the hotel.”

She thinks it over for a moment. “Walking I’m guessing would be forty-five minutes, maybe, so we should probably get a cab.”

“Good idea,” he agrees. “Plus we’ve been basically walking non-stop all day.”

They make their way out of the park and find a cab fairly quickly, so they’re back in their room by a quarter past five.

“Right, I’m calling first dibs on the shower,” Clarke announces when the door has closed behind them. “Since I have to do my hair and makeup and stuff.”

“Go ahead,” he replies, flopping down on the bed. “As long as I get fifteen minutes in there before we need to leave, I’m good.”

“I think I can promise that.” She leans down for a quick kiss before grabbing the dress she’s planning on wearing, which she hung up when they got here so it wouldn’t be too wrinkled, and fishing the bag with her new underwear out of her messenger bag. “I’m going to lock the door so you can’t peak, you need to use the bathroom before?”

“I’m good.”

“OK, see you in a bit.”

She doesn’t linger in the shower, really, but she does take the time to shave thoroughly – she knows it’s silly, Bellamy sees her naked all the time, but today still feels special – washes her hair twice and scrubs her whole body. When she gets out, she gives her eyebrows a scrutinizing look, but they’re fine, so she just puts on moisturizer and body lotion before starting to blow dry her hair.

The lingerie set looks even better now, away from the harsh light of the changing room, and when she pulls on the thigh high stockings she got instead of the pantyhose she had been planning to wear, to go with the garter belt, she feels a tug deep in her belly.

She can’t wait to see Bellamy’s face when he sees her like this. She can almost imagine it – his eyes widening slightly and darkening, his mouth falling open a little.

But first, they have dinner to get through.

Luckily, her dress zips in the side, so she doesn’t need any help, and after applying a light makeup, she finally unlocks the bathroom door a little after six.

Bellamy looks up at the sound and a light version of the expression she was just imagining appears on his face. “Wow,” he says, looking her up and down. “New dress?”

“Not completely, I got it for some benefit that the organization Zeke works for threw last year, but you haven’t seen it before,” she replies with a smile. “Your turn.”

He doesn’t get up, though. “You know…” he starts after a moment. “We could just order take out and stay in tonight.”

Clarke can’t help but laugh. “Nice try. I’ve gotten all dressed up so you’re not getting out of it.”

“But it’s my birthday…” he tries to wheedle, pouting slightly and giving her his best puppy eyes.

Luckily, she’s immune.

“Nope. We’ll have plenty of time for sex when we get back, now chop-chop.”

He groans but does get up and cross to the bathroom, brushing up against her in a not-at-all deliberate way as he passes her. When she only responds with a raised eyebrow, he sighs and closes the bathroom door behind him.

She only has so much self-restraint, though, so as soon as Bellamy’s dressed – she should have known he’d really rock the whole dress shirt and slacks look, but she’s only seen him more casual so far, even on New Year, and she’s just not prepared – she tugs him along out of the room.

“Our reservation’s not for another twenty minutes,” he notes amusedly. “I thought the restaurant was just around the corner.”

“I thought we could grab a drink before we eat,” she fibs, but the look he shoots her makes it clear that he knows what’s really going on.

But at least he doesn’t call her out on it.

The restaurant _is_ amazing, with delicious food and a fantastic view. They’re seated by the window and every time Bellamy’s eyes drift to the Colosseum across the street, Clarke can’t help but smile.

It was the right call to insist on coming here.

“OK, yeah, as far as birthday dinners go, this is pretty awesome,” he admits when they’ve gotten their food.

“See? Told you.”

Remembering his birthday present, she rummages around in her purse until she finds the wrapped box and places it on the table between them.

Bellamy gives it a suspicious look. “I hope that’s not the… stuff you got earlier today,” he says after a moment. “It’s probably not suitable for a place this public… or at least I hope it’s not.”

She laughs at that. “Don’t worry, I’m already wearing the second part of your present,” she assures him, feeling a flash of desire course through her when his eyes drop. “This is the first part.”

“You really didn’t have to get me anything else, you know,” he tells her, but he does take the box and start tearing off the wrapping paper.

“I know,” Clarke replies with a shrug. “I wasn’t really planning to, but this just… it caught my eye, I guess.”

He’s gotten the paper off and puts the box down again before flipping the lid open. “Wow…” he mumbles, touching the watch face. “I love it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually wear a watch,” she says, unsure. "But it just… it felt like _you_ , I guess. It doesn’t make sense, I know, but…”

His hand on hers cuts her off and she relaxes at the smile on his face. “Like I said, I love it,” he repeats. “The only reason I usually don’t wear one is that my old one broke a while ago and I never got around to buying a new one.”

“OK, good. Try it on.”

He takes the watch out of the box and is about to slide it onto his wrist when he catches sight of the engraving on the back and flips the watch over. Clarke holds her breath as he reads it, blinking back tears at the underlying meaning behind it.

“ _If we had forever it still wouldn’t be enough_ ,” Bellamy finally reads out loud, looking up to meet her eyes.

“It’s… I don’t know, it felt right,” she offers with a half-smile. “And it’s for me, too, in a way. Something I can…”

He leans over the table to kiss her, probably a little too thoroughly considering where they are, but she takes the interruption gladly.

“I love it,” he says again when he’s pulled back. “Thank you.”

“It’s your birthday,” she replies with a shrug. “OK, no more heavy stuff, let’s eat. This looks amazing.”

It really is, and their desserts – one chocolate soufflé and one vanilla – are even better.

“You want a taste?” Bellamy asks, holding out his spoon so she can try his vanilla soufflé, and when she wraps her lips around the metal, she sees his eyes drop to her mouth. She pulls back deliberately slowly, popping her tongue out to lick the last of the soufflé off the spoon.

“This is amazing,” she says, proud to sound only a little breathless. “You want a taste of mine?”

He just nods, opening his mouth slowly when she holds out a spoonful of her chocolate soufflé.

They finish the rest of the dessert quickly, Clarke waiving their waiter over as she swallows the last bite. “The check, please?”

The anticipation continues to build on the short walk back to the hotel, but they do manage to make it into their room before they crash together, Bellamy’s fingers deftly undoing the button in her cardigan and pushing it off her shoulders. He tastes like chocolate and vanilla and the way he kisses her – soft but deep, an almost desperate undertone – almost makes Clarke dizzy with want.

“I take it you like the dress?” she gets out when he abandons her lips to trail kisses down her throat. She takes the opportunity to get her sweater all the way off and then starts on the top button in his shirt.

“Not that you don’t look amazing in everything, but yeah, I like it,” he agrees, and she feels his hand slide up her thigh.

She knows the moment he reaches the edge of her stockings and the clip on her garter belt, because he pauses, pulling away from her with a slightly awed look on his face.

Clarke decides that she’s waited long enough to enjoy his reaction, so she takes a step back and finds the zipper in the dress, pulling it down.

“Help me get it off?” she then asks, raising her arms over her head.

Bellamy shakes his head, as if to clear it, before gripping the hem of the dress and slowly pulling it over her head. She expects him to just throw it to the side, but instead he just stands there, clutching the dress in one hand and openly staring at her.

If she hadn’t known, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he loved her and wanted her, she might have gotten self-conscious.

Instead, she just raises an eyebrow. “You just going to stand there, or…”

That snaps him into action and he steps in, leaning down to kiss her again, rougher this time, his hands going to her waist to pull her closer.

She responds in kind, opening up willingly when he traces the seam of her lips with his tongue, and continues to work the buttons of his shirt, pulling it out of his slacks and pushing it off his shoulders once she’s gotten them all undone. He takes his hands off her to shrug out of it completely before tangling one hand in her hair and sliding the other around to her lower back.

Clarke lets her hands trail up and down his back, enjoying the way the muscles play under his skin at her touch, and just lets herself get lost in the feeling for a moment. She would really like to move this to the bed, though, and she’s just decided to do that when Bellamy moves in the other direction, pushing her up against the wall, which… yeah, she’s not opposed to that.

One of his hands come up to her breast, flicking her nipple through the thin material before squeezing lightly, and she lets out a moan that he swallows down. He makes no move to get the bra off, though, and her back’s flat against the wall so she can’t get to the clasp herself. She arches her back into his touch instead, breaking the kiss to gasp when he takes the hint and twirls her nipple between his fingers.

She feels his lips trail down her throat, pause at her collar bone where she just knows she’ll have a hickey tomorrow, and then his mouth on her other nipple, warm and wet through the lace. She buries her fingers in his hair, keeping him in place, and pushes her hips against his. He slides one leg between hers and she grinds against his thigh, sighing at the friction it gives her.

Bellamy lingers for a while where he is, one hand on her breast, his mouth and tongue taking care of the other, before he kneels down in front of her, placing a kiss just above her belly button.

“So the underwear’s a hit?” she asks breathlessly, and he chuckles and looks up at her.

“Fuck, Princess… you look… I don’t even have words.”

“Don’t need words, just need you to fuck me.”

She tries to tug him up to her, but he resists. “All in good time.”

“Please, Bell…” she tries.

But he just shakes his head, leaning back a little to be able to take her in.

“These are definitely staying on,” he mumbles, more to himself than her, it feels like, sliding a hand up her leg. He tugs a little on one of the slings holding the stockings up. “These are separate?”

Clarke assumes he means the panties and garter belt, so she nods. He hums and slides a finger under the garter belt, finding the waistline of the panties and pulling them down. They get stuck at the edge of the stockings, of course, and he slowly undoes each of the clips on one leg, sliding the panties down before attaching the clips to the stockings again. He does the same on the other side and then lifts her left foot to get the panties off, placing it back on the floor before lifting her other foot as well. He doesn’t put this back on the floor, though, instead hooking her leg over his shoulder and leaning closer to breathe her in.

“Oh, God,” she murmurs, earning a chuckle.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” Bellamy says, looking up at her.

“Yeah, well, after four months I know what’s coming,” she replies, then lets out a gasp when his tongue darts out to taste her.

“Good.” He gives her a look so smug that she opens her mouth to tell him not to get too full of himself, but then he really gets going and, well, maybe he deserves to feel smug. Anyway, the only thing she can do is hold onto his shoulder with one hand, her other tugging on his curls, and let her head fall back against the wall.

He starts with just his tongue, alternating between circling her clit and licking as deep into her as he can get, before he adds two fingers to the mix, pushing them into her at a maddeningly slow pace while placing wet, openmouthed kisses against her inner thighs.

“Please, Bell, I’m so close,” she manages to get out after what feels like hours of this, and he huffs a laugh against her thigh before shifting his attention to her clit, sucking it into his mouth at the same time as he curls his fingers just right inside her, and she comes with a cry.

Clarke’s vaguely aware of him standing back up, and when she opens her eyes again, breathing and heart rate almost back to normal, he’s just an inch or so away from her, a soft smile on his face.

“Good?” he wonders, as if he needs to ask, and she responds by pulling him in for a kiss. Bellamy responds eagerly for a long moment before pulling away. “I’ll take that as a yes. Legs still working OK?”

She briefly considers responding with something teasing, but, well, it’s not like he hasn’t rendered her unable to walk on previous occasions.

“Just barely,” she settles on, and he chuckles a little before stepping closer and pushing her up against the wall again. The scratch of his slacks against her still sensitive clit makes her twitch a little and she slides a hand between them, finding the button in them but unable to get it undone with just the one hand. “Off,” she orders, not quite coherent, but he gets the hint, stepping back to get rid of the rest of his clothes.

She pushes away from the wall and leans up for a kiss, wrapping her hand around him and giving an experimental tug. She gets a groan in return and his fingers dig into her hips, but then he pulls her hand away. She breaks the kiss to give him a slight pout, but he just shakes his head and loosens his grip on her hips before turning her around so her back’s to him.

Clarke didn’t realize that they had moved, but she finds herself in front of the window, the lit up Colosseum glittering on the other side of the glass. She feels Bellamy behind her, nudging her forward, and she kneels on the padded window seat.

“OK?” he murmurs in her ear, sliding one arm around her waist to pull her against him, and she feels his dick against her butt.

“Mmm, good,” she agrees, shifting a little and reaching behind her to try to position him where she wants him. She can’t quite reach, though, and he takes over, sliding the head of his dick along her slit once before pushing into her slowly.

“Oh, fuck,” he grinds out, head falling onto her shoulder.

“Uh-huh.” She places her hand on top of his where it’s resting against her stomach, interlacing their fingers, and he presses a kiss to the side of her throat. “So, is this a turn-on for you? Sex with the Colosseum as a backdrop?”

Bellamy chuckles a little before pulling out and pushing back in, drawing a gasp from her.

“ _You’re_ a turn-on for me,” he tells her. “The view’s just a bonus.”

“I’m not completely sure I believe that,” Clarke teases, but then he slides his hand into her bra, pinching her nipple, and picks up the pace a little and she can’t really think anymore.

If she had been able to think, she probably would have figured this was Bellamy’s end game, but soon, his hand abandons her breast to slip between her legs and his finger finds her clit, and when he bites down on her shoulder, she tumbles over the edge for the second time tonight. He pulls out of her, still rubbing circles against her clit as the waves of pleasure wash over her, and this time it takes her longer to come back down.

When she finally does, she slumps back against him, feeling completely boneless.

“Bed?” he asks with a chuckle, and she nods.

“Yes, please.”

So he sweeps her into his arms and deposits her on the bed before kneeling down between her legs, hand wrapped lightly around himself.

“Come here,” she tells him, letting her legs fall open.

“I don’t know, you look pretty worn out,” he replies with a half-smirk. “Maybe I should let you sleep…”

She knows he’s joking, but two can play that game so she opens her mouth wide in a fake yawn. “I _am_ pretty tired…” Bellamy’s eyes narrow a little at that, and she reaches behind her to finally get her bra undone, tossing it to the side. “Come on, would I leave you hanging?”

He shakes his head a little. “Tease.”

“Don’t even try to pretend that you don’t love it.”

It was meant as a joke, but his eyes go serious. “I really do.”

“I love you too. Now get moving, before I really do fall asleep.”

He laughs at that but does finally lean down to kiss her. Only briefly though, to her disappointment, before sitting back up.

“You know, I love these…” he starts, sliding a finger along her leg, “but I think I want you naked now.”

“Go ahead.”

So he unclips her stockings and carefully rolls them down her legs before removing the garter belt too, with a little help from her. Then he’s finally on top of her, sliding into her in one swift motion. He pauses for a moment, leaning his forehead against hers, before starting to move.

Clarke pulls her legs up, getting better traction, and pushes back, urging him on, and he picks up the pace, leaning down to pull a nipple into his mouth and making her moan.

It’s almost too much after the two orgasms she’s already had, and she can feel a third building when he thrusts into her and stills, an almost surprised look on his face as she feels him pulse deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, collapsing on top of her. “I was going for a hat-trick.”

She lets out a breathless laugh and wraps an arm around him. “I’m good, trust me.”

Still, when he pulls out and rolls onto his side, he pushes three fingers inside her, his thumb rough against her clit, and has her coming apart within minutes.

“Good birthday?” Clarke asks quietly when they’ve finally settled in under the comforter, Bellamy on his back and her on her side, her head on his chest.

“Best birthday ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	35. Does It Almost Feel like Nothing Changed at All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up Italy and continuing onto Greece at the end of this chapter – hope you’re all enjoying this “virtual trip”!
> 
> Chapter title from “Pompeii” by Bastille

An annoying buzzing wakes Clarke on Friday, and she fumbles for her phone on the nightstand.

“Turn it off,” Bellamy complains behind her, burying his face in her hair.

She finally finds the offending object and does exactly that. “We have to get up, though,” she says before turning around in his arms. “It’s nine thirty and we have tickets for the Colosseum in an hour.”

He just groans and pulls her closer. “Why did we book it so early?”

“Because we have the tour of the dungeons and arena at noon, and so we’d have time for the Roman Forum in the afternoon,” she reminds him, reluctantly slipping out of his embrace and sitting up on the edge of the bed. “And it wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t kept me up half the night…”

She feels the bed dip as he moves behind her and then his arms wrap around her and she leans her head back against his chest. “Are you complaining?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep.

“Not _complaining_ ,” she replies. “You know I would never turn down a night of amazing sex. I was just noting that if we had gone to sleep at a reasonable time, we wouldn’t be so tired.”

He chuckles before placing a kiss against her temple and getting up. “That’s what coffee’s for.”

They grab some breakfast – with a large coffee for both of them – on the way, and it does get them all the way to awake, but they still get another cup each to go. Just in case.

The line’s not too long when they get to the entrance to the amphitheater, but it’s still nice to be able to just bypass it and go straight in. They pick up their audio guide and let it lead them around, learning more about the ancient structure. Bellamy’s completely enthralled, Clarke can tell from the look on his face the moment the voice starts talking, and she has to admit that it is interesting. She’s been here before, but it was a while ago and there weren’t any audio guides then.

When that part of their tour is over, they drop the audio guides off to join the small, live guided tour of the areas of the theater that are off limits to regular visitors – the actual arena, the underground areas called the _hypogeum_ and the dungeons, where the gladiators and animals were kept before the shows.

Their guide is an amazing fount of knowledge, and the two and a half hour tour seems to fly by. Bellamy is easily the most invested of their group, asking questions through the entire tour, even getting into longer discussions with their guide a few times when they seemingly disagree about some obscure historic fact, until the other man remembers that he’s in the middle of giving a tour.

They finally leave the theater a little before three o’clock, and with just over an hour until their allotted entrance time to the Roman Forum, they immediately find a restaurant for a late lunch.

“That was… wow,” Bellamy starts when they’ve been showed to a table. He still has a slightly dazed look in his eyes and a probably unknowing smile on his face.

“Worth getting up for?” Clarke asks, her own mouth quirking up as well.

“Absolutely,” he confirms.

“Better than last night?” she continues, biting her lip to keep her smile from widening even more and give away that she’s teasing him.

“God no,” he immediately replies, shaking his head. “I might be a history nerd but that doesn’t mean I would take the Colosseum over sex. No way.”

She can’t hold back a chuckle at that. “Good to know.”

There’s no audio guide for the Roman Forum so they just stroll around at their own pace, Bellamy sharing what he knows about the different ruins. It’s nice, not too crowded, the sun warmer than yesterday but still pleasant and not too hot. After a couple of hours, they continue to Palatine Hill before heading back to the hotel as the sun sets behind them.

Since they got through most of the things Clarke had planned for Saturday on Bellamy’s birthday, the weekend turns out pretty laid back. They check out the Vittoriano, with its exhibits and magnificent view from the roof, a nearby archeological site with a really cool multimedia experience, and then work their way through a number of ruins throughout the Monti area on Saturday.

Sunday, they spend the morning in bed before grabbing brunch at a nice, American style (to Bellamy’s disappointment) diner and crossing the Tiber to the Trastevere area. They wander down narrow streets, check out all the little churches they pass and stumble upon a flea market with everything from antiques and vintage clothing to jewelry and art. On the way back to the hotel, they explore the cute little island Isola Tiberina, before wrapping up the day at an adorable little mom and pop restaurant overlooking the river.

Monday morning, Clarke again wakes up to find Bellamy in the window seat, phone in his hand but head turned towards the window.

“You really like that window seat, huh?” she asks sleepily before stretching.

He turns away from the window to offer her a smile. “I like the _view_ ,” he corrects.

She rolls her eyes and pushes the comforter off. “Semantics. Have you been up long?”

“Half an hour, maybe,” he replies after glancing at the phone. “I was just sending some photos to O.”

“Mmm,” she hums, getting out of bed and climbing into his lap. “I don’t like it when you get up before I’m awake.”

Bellamy chuckles, settling his hands on her hips and rubbing circles against her skin with his thumbs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do.”

She leans in, their noses bumping before their lips meet in a lazy morning kiss. He breaks it too soon for Clarke’s liking though, and she lets out a disappointed sound.

“Don’t we have the Vatican today?” he reminds her.

“We do,” she confirms. “But not until two thirty.”

He raises his eyebrows in a questioning way. “Yeah?”

“Yup. It’s a bit of a walk, but as long as the weather’s nice, which it is, I figured we’d start heading over around noon, grab some lunch either on the way or when we get there, and still have plenty of time before the tour starts.”

He nods when she finishes. “Well, in that case…” She barely has time to react before he’s stood up and dropped her on the bed, crawling on top of her a moment later and pressing her into the mattress.

-100-

Clarke has been to the Vatican before, but she’s never actually been inside the museums, the Sistine Chapel or St. Peter’s Basilica, so she’s almost as excited as Bellamy about their tour – just almost, because it’s not possible to be more excited about Rome in general than Bellamy.

Just like during their guided tour of the Colosseum, he pulls her along to the front of the group, so he can ask the tour guide questions and insert his own thoughts whenever he doesn’t agree with him. Unlike the Colosseum guide, however, this one doesn’t seem too happy to have to answer more questions than normal and soon, Bellamy pauses to let a few other people pass them.

“You’d think he would appreciate it when someone pointed out he had something wrong,” he grumbles and Clarke can’t help but smile

“You would,” she agrees, squeezing his hand. “But you can be my tour guide.”

So they hang back, letting their group get ahead of them a little, and then he starts to tell her everything he knows about the place. She adds anecdotes about some of the artwork they pass as well, and it’s nicer, if she’s honest.

When they get to the Sistine Chapel, they both stop for a long moment to just take in the frescoes on the walls and ceiling. The room’s fairly crowded, everyone tilting their heads back just like they are.

“Did you know that Michelangelo didn’t really want to take on the painting of this place?” Bellamy asks quietly after a while.

“I didn’t,” she replies. “Why not? It must have been a great honor.”

“He was mainly a sculptor, not a painter, so it wasn’t really his area of expertise, I guess,” he explains. “Which, you kind of have to wonder how good he would have been if it _had_ been his thing.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees. “This is absolutely amazing.”

They wander around a little, getting a closer look at the different parts of the frescoes.

“Another funny thing,” he starts when they’re heading towards the door. “Back in the sixteenth century, The Council of Trent, which was a council of important people in the church back in the day, decided that the frescoes should be more decent, so they hired a painter to cover the naked figures up with fig leaves or loin cloths.”

“Seriously?”

He smiles at her indignation. “Yeah. They remained until 1980, when the frescoes were restored and the additions removed, so four hundred years.”

“Wow… that’s insane.”

“Oh yeah, completely insane.” He pauses. “Or, you know, completely logical considering the church’s stance on anything even vaguely related to sex. Especially back then.”

“Yeah, when you put it that way…”

They catch up to their group outside St. Peter’s Basilica, the guide giving them an annoyed glance. They stay at the back, though, only half-listening to the guide as he launches into his introduction about the church and then leads them inside, whispering little notes to each other and trying to keep from laughing out loud.

“So we have two basically free days before we leave for Naples?” Bellamy asks when they’re on their way back to the hotel, strolling along the Tiber with the setting sun to their right.

“Basically, yeah,” Clarke confirms. “Why, anything you’re thinking about?”

“We’ve been doing all these historical stuff for my benefit all week,” he replies. “I was thinking we could do something _you_ wanted for once.”

The fact that he’s obviously thought about this makes her smile and she squeezes his hand before answering. “You know I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve done too, right? I might not be a history nerd but there’s a lot of art too, and I can still appreciate cool history stuff. It’s not like it’s a hardship, I’m having fun.”

“No, I know that,” he assures her. “But I can appreciate art stuff too, if you want to check out a museum or something?”

It’s true that she mainly focused on things she thought Bellamy would enjoy when she booked their tours and visits, but that’s because the trip’s supposed to be about _him_ , for obvious reasons that she can’t think about right now because even touching on the subject makes a lump form in her throat. She swallows it down.

“You do realize we just came from what’s basically a huge art gallery, right?” she asks, trying to make her voice teasing and probably succeeding. He doesn’t seem to notice anything off, anyway.

“Well, yeah, but that’s, like… historic art or whatever,” he says with a shrug. “There’s the museum of modern art, we could go there tomorrow maybe?”

Clarke knows there’s a modern art museum in Rome, but it’s not like they’ve talked about it, so she’s not sure how _he_ does.

“Did you look that up?” she asks, and knows she’s right when he ducks his head a little and doesn’t meet her eyes.

“So what if I did? You literally planned this whole trip, six months, I can come up with suggestions too.”

She lets go of his hand to be able to wrap her arm around his waist instead, and his arm automatically goes around her shoulders. “Of course you can.”

“So what do you say? You like modern art, right?”

“I like basically all art, to be honest, but yeah, I do like modern art,” she confirms. “I’m kind of curious about how you came to that conclusion, though?”

“It’s what you paint, isn’t it?”

“Well, I do abstract art right now,” she corrects him. “I’ve tried out most art disciplines at one time or another – expressionism, cubism, realism, impressionism… Abstract art is sort of a sub-genre of modern art, but in general it’s not just abstract stuff.”

“Oh.” He nods thoughtfully. “I didn’t actually know that, I’ve always kind of assumed all those pieces where you can’t really make out what it’s supposed to be are modern art. Not that I’m an expert or anything… obviously. I do know cubism, though, Picasso, right? With all the angles and stuff. You have one of those paintings, don’t you?”

“I do, yeah.” She peaks up at him. “I didn’t tell you those were my works?”

She doesn’t keep all her paintings, far from it, but she’s tried to save at least one example of all the different types of paintings she’s done over the years, so the wall in her library that’s not taken up by book cases is full of paintings.

Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up. “No, you didn’t. Just that one or all those paintings?”

“All of them,” she confirms with a chuckle.

“I’ll have to take a closer look at them when we get home,” he decides. “So modern art museum? Tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

So they spend Tuesday exploring the paintings and sculptures and other pieces at the museum, Bellamy asking about everything he doesn’t immediately get and Clarke trying to explain as much as she can. Which sometimes is not at all – she really doesn’t get some of the more avant-garde pieces either.

The last day in the city, they decide to grab one of those bus tours where you can get on and off where you want.

“This feels like something we should have done on day one,” Bellamy notes when they’ve settled in on the open upper floor. The sun’s nice and warm, though it’s still a little chilly up here in the wind. “Get a lay of the land _before_ we started exploring.”

“I think we did pretty well anyway,” Clarke notes. “But this is a good opportunity to get photos.”

They don’t actually hop off anywhere, just ride the whole route once, listening to the audio guide, and then stay on the bus past their starting point and get off close to the Fontana di Trevi, where they grab some lunch and try another gelateria. When in Rome, after all…

“So did Rome live up to all of your expectations?” Clarke asks when they’re in bed late that night. “Did you get to do everything you dreamed of?”

Bellamy’s checking something on his phone, but at her questions, he puts it on the nightstand and rolls over so he’s facing her.

“Do you even need to ask?” he replies incredulously. “Have I not been completely obvious the last week? Because I feel like I have been.”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Well, yeah, but… I kind of wanted to confirm anyway.”

His mouth quirks up in a half-smile and he reaches out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. “In that case, I have had the most amazing time here with you. It’s been… out of this world, really. Definitely the experience of a lifetime.”

She resolutely pushes away the underlying reminder that it really _is_ the experience of a lifetime, or at least his lifetime, and turns her face into the touch of his hand, which is lingering against her cheek.

“Good.”

“You know…” he starts, hand trailing down her throat to her shoulder and then along her arm. “There is _one_ thing that would be the icing on the cake.”

She’s pretty sure she knows what he’s getting at. “Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” He shifts closer, hand sliding around to pull her against him, mouth finding hers.

And, well, it’s not like she’s going to say no.

-100-

Clarke has never been to Naples before, even though the train ride from Rome is only about an hour. She’s heard about Pompeii before, of course, even thought about visiting it, but for some reason she’s never gotten around to it.

“See, you’re helping me be more… historical or whatever,” she tells Bellamy when they’re on the train on Thursday.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

“Shut up.”

There’s a long line of cabs waiting outside the train station and within minutes, they’re en route to their hotel in the historical center of the city.

“This is… different,” Bellamy notes when they’re standing outside the hotel. “It’s nice but it feels much more modern than Rome or Venice.”

The façade of the building behind them is mostly glass, so Clarke can see where he’s coming from. “It does,” she agrees. “Come on.”

They get checked in and drop their bags off before leaving the hotel again. The sun is hidden behind some clouds at the moment, but it’s still nice out, maybe even a little warmer than in Rome.

“Do we have a specific goal in mind?” Bellamy asks, looking around.

“Not really,” she replies. “Honestly, trying to find sights in Naples was kind of tricky, the only given was Pompeii, which isn’t exactly in the middle of the city… there’s a bunch of churches all over the place, obviously, and a castle of some kind down by the water… do you want to just walk and see where we end up? We do have the walking tour on Saturday, we’ll probably hit whatever tourist hotspots there are on that.”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

So they basically just stroll around, exploring the little alleys around the hotel before venturing further afield. They do end up finding the castle more or less by accident, and it’s pretty cool – they can’t get in without tickets, but they walk around it before checking out the harbor area on the other side and then weaving their way back towards the hotel in a roundabout way. When both of their stomachs start rumbling, they pick a restaurant at random which turns out to have great pasta.

“You know, I love Italian food,” she says as they leave the restaurant. “But I’m kind of looking forward to something else when we get to Greece.”

Bellamy chuckles and wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her close. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Just think about it – gyros, moussaka, souvlaki…”

She groans. “I’m completely stuffed but that still sounds so good.”

“Soon, Princess,” he promises, lips brushing her temple for a moment.

They leave Naples a little after ten the next morning, arriving at the archaeological site of Pompeii after a half-hour bus ride. Their guide is absolutely amazing, even Bellamy doesn’t have anything to add to her extensive explanations and descriptions of what they’re seeing. Most of the time, it feels like a normal historical tour, like the many others they’ve already been on during this trip, but occasionally they come across casts of the victims of the volcanic eruption, which are a stark reminder that this isn’t just a historical site – people died here, people just going about their lives.

If she hadn’t been basically immortal, it probably would have made Clarke think about her own mortality but as it is, she loops her arm through Bellamy’s to remind herself that he’s still here. At least for now. She gets a little more time with him.

The mood on the bus leaving Pompeii is a bit subdued, but the tour guide is apparently used to this and manages to get them laughing with stories about past tours and strange requests from visitors.

The second part of the tour is a hike up to the summit of Mount Vesuvius, which is demanding but so worth it when they finally reach the top.

The day started out a little cloudy, but the sky has cleared by now and they have an amazing view of the coastline below, Pompeii some ways away and even Sorrento on its peninsula in the distance.

“So, this is an active volcano, huh?” Bellamy says, leaning against the railing and peeking into the crater.

“Yup,” she confirms. “Last eruption was in 1944, so it could blow any day now.”

He gives her a withering look and she lets out a laugh.

“I’m pretty sure we’re fine,” he decides, pulling her along around the edge of the crater, to get a better look.

It’s after six when they’re finally back at the hotel, and Bellamy just face plants on the bed, letting out a groan. Clarke toes her shoes off before sitting down next to him, sliding her fingers into his hair and scratching his scalp. He turns his head with a content sigh, so he can look at her.

“You OK?” she asks amusedly.

“Long day,” he replies, eyes sliding closed. “Good, but long. Mmm, keep doing that.”

She chuckles but obliges. “I wasn’t going to stop.”

Silence falls over them, the sound from the street outside seeping in through the closed window, and she almost thinks he’s fallen asleep when he finally speaks again.

“You know I’ve loved everything we’ve done so far on this trip,” he starts, opening one eye to look up at her. “But I’m honestly really starting to look forward to a week of relaxing in the Seychelles.”

She hums in agreement. “Yeah, it’s been pretty intense.”

“How long until we’re there?”

Clarke pulls her phone out of her pocket and opens their itinerary. “Two and a half weeks,” she tells him after a moment. “Onto Athens on Sunday, obviously, then Crete, Cairo and Petra.”

He seems to perk up at that. “Right, Greece, that’s going to be amazing.”

“You going to be able to muster up any enthusiasm for that or did Italy exhaust it all?”

“Nah, I’ll be excited,” Bellamy says with a chuckle, rolling onto his back and sitting up. “But it was a good idea to put in these little breaks, thanks for that.”

She leans in for a kiss. “Of course. Dinner?”

They have an early morning tomorrow as well, so they decide to just get room service and call it an early night.

Their last day in Naples, and Italy, they take a guided walking tour, learning more about the city and exploring the underground ruins that date back to the Roman empire. In the afternoon, they take a cab to Herculaneum, another town that was destroyed by the same volcanic eruption as Pompeii, and spend a few hours among its ruins.

Clarke’s pretty sure that, by the end of this trip, she’ll have seen more ruins than the rest of her life put together. She tells Bellamy as much when they’re back in Naples, trying to decide on a restaurant for dinner.

“Sorry for trying to educate you,” he replies with a chuckle.

“Yeah, how dare you drag me to interesting historical and cultural sites,” she teases back. “I expect nothing but sun, sea and frivolity for the rest of this trip.”

His chuckle turns into a full blown laugh and it takes him a moment to pull himself together. “ _Frivolity_? Who even says that?”

“Well, excuse me for not keeping up with all the hip, new expressions.” She knows she uses some old fashioned words sometimes, even though she thinks she’s pretty good at keeping up with the times, but he’s never actually said anything about it before. Not that it sounds like he’s criticizing her or anything.

“No, I love it,” he still assures her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “Come on, this looks good.”

-100-

Their flight to Athens ends up being delayed, which… it was bound to happen at some point, and it’ll probably happen again before the end of the trip, considering the number of flights they have booked over the next four months, but it’s still annoying. So they’re both cranky and exhausted by the time they get to their hotel, just before midnight, and only manage to remove the necessary pieces of clothing before collapsing into bed.

“Nothing booked tomorrow, right?” Bellamy mumbles, one arm reaching for Clarke and she willingly slides closer.

“Nope, we can sleep all day if we want,” she confirms.

“Maybe not _all_ day.”

Clarke wakes up first the next morning, blinking against the light streaming in through the window and slowly realizing that they didn’t remember to pull the curtains closed before falling asleep.

She slides out of bed and takes the few steps needed to the balcony doors. The room’s nothing too fancy, but it’s nice and clean and – most importantly – it has a balcony with views of the Acropolis when you’re actually _on_ the balcony and leaning just a little over the railing.

She opens one of the doors and the sound of the city immediately rushes into the room. They’re on the top floor, so it’s not as bad as it could have been, but she’s still grateful that the doors and windows seem to be pretty well isolated.

It’s already petty warm out, probably in the low sixties, and the sky above is an uninterrupted pale blue. It looks like it’ll be a great day.

She sort of expected that either her movement through the room or the sound of the traffic outside would have woken Bellamy up, but when she turns back to the bed, he’s still fast asleep, sprawled out on his back. She checks the time on her phone on the nightstand – 9:42 – before crawling back into the bed and throwing one leg over his. He sighs in his sleep and rolls onto his side, one arm wrapping around her to pull her closer.

“Morning,” she murmurs, rubbing her nose against his, and is finally awarded with one eye opening.

“Mhm,” he replies, only semi-coherent, before squeezing his eyes shut again.

Clarke can’t help but chuckle. “I thought you said you’d be excited when we got here?” she reminds him amusedly. “I was kind of expecting to wake up and find you on the balcony, to be honest.”

“Give me a moment,” he tells her, rolling them so he’s pushing her into the mattress and pressing a kiss to her collar bone. “I definitely want to check out the view but I have other priorities right now.”

She has every intention of letting him take care of those priorities, but her stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly, and Bellamy rolls off her with a chuckle.

“Or we could go get some breakfast, I guess,” he says.

“I am kind of hungry,” she agrees ruefully. They got vouchers for food at the airport in Rome and got some sandwiches, but that was at eight last night and neither of them had the energy to find something to eat when they got to Athens. “But definitely a rain check on that.”

So they get up and leave the hotel, finding a restaurant that serves traditional Greek breakfast just a few blocks away, and then spend their first day in the city just strolling around. They start by weaving around the fenced off area with the Acropolis on its hill, getting as close a look at the Parthenon and the other buildings as they can without actually entering the area. They lose themselves among the narrow streets beyond the Acropolis for a while, enjoying some gyros for lunch, before finding their way to Areopagus and Filopappou hills to admire the three-sixty degree view of the city.

“Good start on our Greek adventure?” Clarke asks when they’re in bed later that evening.

“Mm, great start,” Bellamy agrees, putting his phone and glasses on the nightstand before rolling onto his side to look at her. “Sparta tomorrow?”

“Yup,” she confirms. “So we’re getting up pretty early.”

“Ah.” He nods, a solemn expression on his face even as he trails a hand from her thigh, over her hip and up her side, fingers light against her ribs. “So I suppose any… nocturnal activities will have to wait.”

She arches her back when his hand slides around to her front to cup her breast and bites her lip. “Did I say that? Just… maybe not _too_ late.”

He chuckles lowly as he leans in closer. “I’ll do my best.”


	36. Would You Lie with Me and Just Forget the World?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this, I realize we’ve actually passed the halfway mark! I mean, it’s still going to be, like, four months or something before the fic is all done and posted, but still, we’re kind of on the home stretch – I hope you’ll all want to continue on this journey with me until the end!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol

Clarke knew about Sparta and the Spartans before she started planning their round-the-world trip, of course. Her knowledge was basically limited to three things, though – the Spartans (hint in the name) advocated for a simple lifestyle, their army was the most prominent in Ancient Greece for some time, and Spartan women were known for having more freedom and power than any other women during that time.

She also knew that Gerard Butler looked hot on the cover of the movie _300_ , but that’s beside the point. She did try to get Bellamy to watch it a couple of days before they left New York, but he flat out refused, claiming that it would give her a completely skewed impression of the Spartan people and the battle of Thermopylae. He got so worked up about it – she even caught him muttering about it under his breath a couple of times in the days after – that she didn’t dare bring it up again.

She did do some more research herself, though, and she’s really looking forward to their trip to Sparta, and not just because she knows Bellamy will be like a kid in a candy shop – she really thinks it’ll be interesting.

And it is, the whole day is great.

They’ve booked a private tour, so it’s just the two of them and their guide, a twenty-something girl who introduces herself as Alexandra, immediately following up with asking them to call her Alex. She seems genuinely excited, even though this is probably something she does regularly, and if Clarke hadn’t just had two large cups of coffee, she probably would have vaguely resented her for being so exuberant at eight in the morning.

She gets them settled in the back seat and takes off through the city, weaving up and down narrow streets so much Clarke has no idea which direction they’re going after only a few minutes. She knows Athens must be a pretty large city, but it was dark when they landed, so it’s not until now that they really get an idea of its size. It takes almost half an hour before they even leave the city behind, the houses and stores giving way to trees and hills on both sides of the highway and, a little while later, to the sea on their left.

Alex keeps up a running commentary of what they’re passing, everything from landmarks to places she knows for various reasons. Clarke only listens with half an ear but Bellamy seems really interested, cutting in with questions now and then. She leans her head on his shoulder and gazes out at the blue ocean beyond the car window, letting their conversation become background noise.

She might doze off a little, because before long, Alex is pulling off the highway and comes to a stop in a parking lot in front of what looks like a restaurant. Clarke looks around with a frown.

“Are we there already?” she asks, getting a chuckle from Bellamy.

“No, just the first stop,” he tells her.

“Yes, this is Dhioryga tis Korinthou,” Alex adds from the front seat. “The Corinth Canal. It is over six kilometers long but only twenty-one meters wide at the bottom. It was supposed to be used for shipping, but it was too narrow. But it is a beautiful place. There is a café on the other side, if you want to get something to eat before we go on.”

They get out of the car and Clarke stretches a little, getting a better look at their surroundings.

“Come on,” Bellamy says, taking her hand and tugging her along. “It’s this way.”

They take off in the direction he indicated and soon emerge on the bridge stretching over the canal, stopping in the middle. She leans against the railing and takes in the scene before her – the narrow, bright blue canal far below them, at least two or three hundred feet down, another bridge some ways away and then what she assumes is the sea, hills still shrouded in morning mist in the distance.

“It is beautiful,” she notes, pulling her hand from his grasp to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him closer.

“It is,” he agrees, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her hair.

They admire the view for a little longer before continuing across the bridge. It’s only been an hour and a half since they had breakfast, so neither of them are hungry, but they pick up a couple of sodas at a news stand before turning back the way they came, crossing the bridge on the other side this time.

They’ve almost reached the end of the bridge when Clarke stops with a laugh.

“What?” Bellamy asks, frowning at her.

“Look,” she says, nodding at the sign she spotted, right next to the bridge, and he does.

“Bungy platform?” he reads out loud.

“You didn’t change your mind and want to try it?” she asks, not really serious, but still wanting to check in. She promised herself that she would, at some point.

“There’s nobody there,” he points out, looking around. “Besides, isn’t Australia the place for all that adrenaline stuff? I mean, if you’re going to do it you might as well do it right.”

Maybe he’s still thinking about it.

“Whatever you want.”

“Right now, what I want is to get going so we get to Sparta soon,” he tells her.

“Then let’s go.”

Alex is waiting by the car and soon they’re back on the road, she and Bellamy quickly getting into a discussion about infrastructure in Ancient Greece. Clarke tunes them out again, focusing on the landscape, which is more rural on this side of the canal – fields stretching into the distance, what looks like olive growths here and there. After a while, it turns hilly, almost mountainous, reddish-brown mounds dotted with green shrubs rising high above them. They pass through a city, which she manages to identify as Tripoli from the signs, which luckily aren’t just in Greek, and then it’s back to the hills and mountains.

“It’s definitely a special type of landscape,” Bellamy says after an indeterminable amount of time, his voice almost making her jump since she wasn’t prepared for it so close to her ear. She looks up at him with a smile.

“It is,” she replies. “Did you two finally run out of aqueducts and canals to talk about or are you just taking a break?”

He rolls his eyes but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “We’re getting closer to Mystras, Alex wanted to give us both a summary before we get there.”

“Yes, we will be there soon,” Alex confirms from the driver’s seat. “Mystras was a fortified city that was the capital of the Byzantine Despotate of Morea in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Today, it’s known as the ghost city, but many of the monasteries are still inhabited…”

She goes on to give them the whole background of the city and what they can expect to see there, and by the time she’s done, they’re pulling into a parking lot on the side of the road.

The sun has risen in the sky while they were in the car, and with it the temperature. Bellamy immediately pulls off the light sweater he’s wearing, tossing it into the backseat of the car, and Clarke follows his lead. It must be at least seventy-five and the sun is really beating down.

Alex seems completely unaffected in her thick looking sweatshirt. “Right, this way.”

They follow her around the ruins, listening to her more in-depth description of each one. Bellamy pipes in now and then, but mostly stays silent, to Clarke’s surprise. Then again, Alex is probably the best tour guide they’ve come across so far and she doesn’t leave anything out, going into all the little details Bellamy added during previous tours. They meet some of the brothers still living in the active monasteries, explore the little churches dotted around, check out the castle ruins and finally grab some lunch before returning to the car for the short drive to the final stop in Sparta.

They start at the old citadel, and even if it’s just ruins these days, Alex’ engaging tales of the old warrior society makes it come alive somehow.

“Come on, Bell… say it,” Clarke says when they’re strolling around for a few minutes after Alex has finished her guiding.

“Say what?” he asks, tearing his eyes from the plaque he was reading.

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “You know what.”

He just stares at her for a moment before groaning and shaking his head. “No.”

“Come on…” she wheedles. “You know you want to say it.”

“I really don’t.”

“Say what?” Alex asks, coming up behind them.

“Are you going to say it?” she asks.

Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest, but she can tell from the glint in his eyes that she almost has him. “Nope.”

“Then you give me no choice but to say it myself,” she replies with a casual shrug.

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, Princess.”

“Last chance,” she says, pausing for a moment to give him a chance to change his mind. “Fine then. This… is… Sparta!”

He lets out a huff but it’s almost drowned out by Alex’ excited laughter. “Again!” she exclaims, coming to stand next to Clarke, and they say it together, a little louder than before.

“Come on, Bellamy. You know you want to.”

He shakes his head, but the next time she opens her mouth, he chimes in.

“This… is… SPARTA!”

A few other tourists nearby turn to give them amused or disapproving looks, but they’re laughing too much to even care.

“OK, yeah, that was kind of fun,” Bellamy admits as they make their way back to the car.

“Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Still a crap movie, though.”

They wrap the visit up at the archeological museum before starting back towards Athens.

The sun sets just after they pass the Corinth Canal again, and Clarke dozes a little on and off the rest of the way. She apparently falls asleep at some point, because Bellamy shakes her awake when they’re back at the hotel.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he greets her with a smile.

“Mmm, hey.”

They thank Alex for a wonderful day and say their goodbyes before entering the hotel and climbing the stairs to their room.

They spend Wednesday morning exploring the Acropolis with its many temples in various stages of ruin, the theaters and monuments. It’s another beautiful day, clear enough they can make out the sea in the distance. After a quick lunch, they continue to the Acropolis Museum, which keeps them busy most of the afternoon.

It’s almost five when they finally leave the museum, and they decide to head back to the hotel for a little while before trying to find a restaurant for dinner. Bellamy immediately slumps down on the bed with his phone in hand.

“What are we doing tomorrow again?” he asks and Clarke opens her calendar to check.

“Stuff on the other side of the Acropolis,” she tells him. “Roman forum, Agora, Temple of Hephaestus… I think there were some other cool stuff over there as well, but that’s what I have written down.”

He just hums and taps away on his phone, and she knows he’s googling all the places she just told him, even though they’ll be exploring them for real tomorrow.

She changes her jeans and shirt for some sweats instead, since she’s planning on putting on something else for dinner anyway, and is just about to join Bellamy on the bed when her phone pings. It makes him look up and she shrugs, checking the screen.

“Raven,” she says when she sees the notification.

“Ah.”

It’s not that unusual for Raven to text her, they’ve kept in touch fairly regularly over the last couple of months, texting every few days and skyping once a week or so. But she had a text waiting for her this morning and they have a Skype date planned for Friday evening.

The actual message doesn’t make her any the wiser – _@ hotel?_ – but she sends confirmation back and a moment later, there’s an incoming Skype call.

“Hey Rae,” she greets her friend when she’s picked up.

_“Hey, babe, how’s Greece?”_

“It’s good, the weather’s finally getting nice so that’s a bonus.” She sits down at the edge of the bed, Bellamy’s arm immediately sneaking around her waist to pull her against his chest. “Did something come up on Friday?”

_“Friday?”_ Raven asks. _“Oh, right, we were going to Skype. No, nothing’s come up, I just… remember what we talked about on Christmas?”_

They talked about a lot of things on Christmas, of course, but Clarke immediately knows what she means and feels her heart rate pick up.

“You found something?”

Raven sighs. _“Not what you wanted me to find.”_

Clarke can honestly say that she hasn’t thought a lot about her and Raven’s conversation about getting around Bellamy’s Number. It’s crossed her mind now and then, when she can’t avoid actually thinking about the whole situation, but since they set out on their trip, she’s been pretty good at doing just that. Still, the way Raven’s words simultaneously feel like an expected confirmation she knew was coming and like a knife in the gut makes her think she must have been thinking about it on some subconscious level and that her subconscious – traitor – has been hoping for some solution.

Bellamy must pick up on her reaction because he tightens his hold on her and presses a kiss to her hair. She slumps back against him, covering his hand with hers and squeezes a little to tell him that she’s OK. Which she’s not, not really, but still.

“What did you find?”

_“Well, I thought the best bet would be to try to skip the day entirely, you know, hope it would reset the clock or something,”_ Raven says.

“Is that even possible?” It sounds a little like science fiction to Clarke.

_“Yes and no. If you time it right, you can, technically, leave a time zone where it’s July twenty-sixth and cross the dateline so that you go directly to July twenty-eight. But time zones and all that, it’s really just something humans have come up with to make sense of the way the sun and earth and everything move, night and day, it’s not an actual, physical thing, so it’s not like you’ll be a day younger if you do that.”_

“And it won’t work for us,” Clarke adds.

_“Like I said, I thought it was the best – the only, really – option. But… it’s been tried.”_

“Really?”

_“I honestly didn’t think so, since it hasn’t even been technologically possible for that long,”_ Raven says, sounding exasperated, like her failure to solve this problem is actually affronting to her personally _. “But, yeah. You’ve met Roan King, right?”_

Clarke has to think for a moment before she can place the name. “Yeah, a couple of times, I think.”

_“Anyway, he met someone a few years ago, a Norm with, like, two years to live. Apparently, he spent a lot of time trying to come up with some way to get her past her date, and in the end, this was the only thing he actually felt would be worth trying. So he chartered a plane to go from… I don’t even remember the name, some tiny Pacific island in the time zone UTC minus eleven, to another tiny Pacific island in the time zone UTC plus fourteen.”_

She pauses, as if not sure if she should continue.

“What happened?” Clarke asks, though she’s pretty sure she knows and doesn’t really want to hear the answer. She needs to.

_“She died when they crossed the dateline,”_ Raven replies quietly. _“So, yeah… not an option.”_

They’re both quiet for a long moment and Clarke can practically feel Bellamy’s questioning eyes on her.

“So that won’t work,” she finally says. “Anything else you could think of?”

_“Not really,”_ Raven admits. _“I tried to get in touch with Roan, figured he might have some other idea that they never tried, but he hasn’t picked up on the number that’s listed for him. He’s stationed in Sydney right now, I know you’ll be there for a few days, I can see if I can find his address in case you want to look him up…”_

“Yeah, we might do that,” Clarke agrees before letting out a sigh. “OK, thanks for trying, Rae.”

_“Always, babe. And I’ll keep trying to find something else… You know where to find me if you need me.”_

“Thanks. Love you.”

_“Love you too.”_

She hangs up the phone and resists the urge to throw it across the room. It’s not like it would help, even if it might make her feel better for, like, a second.

“So you asked Raven to try to come up with a way to get past my Number?” Bellamy asks behind her, voice light.

She slips out of his embrace to be able to turn around and give him a scrutinizing look. “How did you reach that conclusion from my end of that conversation?”

He shrugs. “I figured you probably had and it sounded like you were talking about something more serious than our latest holiday photos. She hasn’t found anything?”

She nudges him a little and he moves over so she can flop down on the bed, curling around him. He wraps an arm around her and rubs soothing circles against her back.

“No. She thought our best option would be to cross the dateline backwards, I guess? Go from the time zone UTC minus eleven to the time zone UTC plus fourteen at the exact right moment, so we’d skip the twenty-seventh completely. But apparently, that doesn’t work.”

“Huh.” He pauses. “That’s the only thing I could come up with too, so good thing I didn’t put too much energy into trying to figure out how to actually do that.”

She’s a little surprised that he’s thought about it, but maybe she shouldn’t be. It’s only natural, after all. The will to survive is ingrained in the human brain. But… he’s never said anything about it to her. Then again, she didn’t mention talking to Raven about it either. And either way, it doesn’t matter.

“The guy who tried that is apparently in Sydney, Raven tried to get in touch with him but couldn’t, but she’s going to look up his address. We could see if he’d be willing to talk to us while we’re there? He might have some other idea.”

“Yeah, we could do that,” he agrees, but she has a sneaking suspicion he’s just saying it to humor her.

Maybe he’s given up. She wouldn’t blame him.

“OK.”

She moves so she’s in a more comfortable position and can lean against his shoulder and they stay like that for a while, Bellamy doing whatever it is he’s doing on his phone and her staring across the room without really seeing anything.

“Look,” he starts after a long silent moment. “I don’t…” He pauses, sucks in a deep breath and lets it back out. “You know I’m not expecting you to fix this, right?”

Clarke twists around so she can look at him and he meets her eyes with a half-smile.

“I know,” she tells him. “I was expecting Raven to fix it.”

Like she hoped, it makes him laugh a little. “Well, if _Raven_ can’t fix something…”

She settles in again, keeping her eyes on her hand where she’s fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “I wasn’t expecting her to have some sort of magical solution,” she admits. “I mean, it’s one of the first things we learn – Numbers are set in stone, there’s no way to get around that. But there are still stories about people who try, you know?”

“I don’t, actually,” he replies, sounding genuinely curious. “How do people try to do that?”

It’s the most they’ve talked about this in weeks, maybe since she told him the truth, but even though it makes Clarke’s stomach twist, thinking about _his_ Number, it’s still a relief, in some way, to just talk logistics.

“Well, it’s obviously just Norms with some sort of connection to a Keeper who even know about it,” she starts. “So they’ll know the when and the where and the how. Say someone’s going to drown in a lake at noon on a specific day, it’s pretty easy to avoid that, like you told me that first day – you just stay out of the lake.”

“But that just means it’ll be something else,” Bellamy says, obviously remembering that conversation as well. “That’s what you said, right? Something else will happen and they’ll still die.”

“Exactly. You get out of that one and the place, COD and exact time changes, but the Number stays the same,” she replies. “So instead of drowning you’ll… get hit by a car, fall down the stairs, get shot in a drive-by, _something_.”

He’s quiet for so long she actually has to sneak a look at him, but his eyebrows are furrowed and his gaze unfocused, so she figures he’s just thinking.

“What if the original time of death was already, like, a few minutes before midnight?” he finally asks. “I mean, I get that you can’t affect that, but if it was and you avoided that one, what would happen if you were still alive at midnight?”

She frowns. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“As long as COD isn’t something medical,” he continues, “if it’s something external, like getting in a car accident or falling or something like that, you should theoretically be able to postpone it indefinitely, right? Just avoid those situations.”

Clarke considers it for a moment. How has she never thought about that? “In theory, yeah. But like you said, you can’t affect the exact time, or the cause. I’ve only ever had the COD and time change once for a Transfer, I don’t know what happens if you change the timeline more than that.”

“It’s something to keep in mind, right?” he says, voice deliberately light. “If this Ronan guy…”

“Roan,” she corrects him.

“Roan, right. If he doesn’t have any ideas, we could still try that?” Bellamy continues. “I mean, if it’s not… a heart attack or a stroke or something like that, anyway.”

She can hear the undertone of hope in his voice, so maybe he hasn’t given up after all. “Of course we can.”

“Can you… do you already have that information?” he asks after another moment. “The exact time and… how?”

“No,” she replies, before letting out a long sigh. “You remember I showed you the app, right? We get assigned Transfers on a weekly basis, and if there’s a specific one we want to handle, for whatever reason, we can claim it a month in advance. So I can do that… at the end of June. I mean, if you want me to.”

She’s thought about it, a couple of times. Whether he’ll want her to be the one to do the Transfer herself, of if he’d prefer someone else handle it.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to be the one to do it?” he asks, no hesitation.

Clarke shrugs, or at least does the best version of a shrug she can in her current position. “I don’t know, it’s a… strange situation. I wasn’t sure if you’d maybe prefer someone you don’t know to do it. You know how it works, I’ll see… I don’t know what exactly, and you won’t be able to control it, but it will be your most powerful memories.”

“I know,” Bellamy assures her. “And you’re the only one I want to see those.”

She buries her face against his shoulder, fingers tightening in his shirt. “OK.”

He gently disentangles her hand so he can interlace their fingers instead and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Unless you don’t want to. Which I would totally understand.”

“No, I want to,” she replies immediately. “I mean, I’ve never done that for someone I know before, so I don’t really know what to expect, but I don’t want anyone else to do it. Not unless that’s what you want.”

“OK,” he says. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

She hums, closing her eyes and trying to just enjoy the moment.

The conversation does put a bit of a damper on the mood, though, and in the end, they decide to just order room service and go to bed early.

Luckily, a good night’s sleep has at least Bellamy back to normal the next morning, and his excitement as they make their way around the Acropolis area finally clears Clarke’s mind of the last traces of heaviness from last night.

They explore the Roman Forum and Agora, the old Temple of Athena and the Temple of Hephaestus, Stoa Poikile and Hadrian’s Library, where Bellamy somehow gets going about the library of Alexandria and what a loss it was to the world. Clarke can’t keep the smile off her face as he rants about the power of the written word and how kids today don’t appreciate it in a world where everything has to happen in an instant and all types of reactions need to be limited to 140 characters. She doesn’t bother pointing out that Twitter’s been upgraded to 280 characters.

When he finally tires himself out, it’s early afternoon and they grab some lunch before strolling around the Monastiraki neighborhood. It’s Thursday, so the Sunday flea market isn’t occupying the streets, but they still enjoy themselves checking out all the little souvenir shops, trying to find the funniest looking loofah for Raven, who’s never been to Greece or Athens.

Their last two days in Athens are a little slower paced – Bellamy wakes up with a pretty bad head cold on Friday, but still insists on sticking with their plan to check out the archeological museum. They take a short detour by a pharmacy where he picks up throat lozenges, cough syrup and some sort of super strong nasal spray that lets him breathe properly after only a minute or so. He keeps his commentary to a minimum as they wander between the exhibits, mostly pulling Clarke’s attention to the available signs and letting them do the guiding for him.

He’s a little better on their last day, but still tired and stuffy, and she manages to convince him that they’ll have plenty of time for the last couple of stops on their agenda in the afternoon, so they spend the morning in their room, Clarke leaning against the headboard reading while Bellamy dozes with his head in her lap.

They leave the hotel around noon and make their way slowly towards the Ethnikós Kípos park a few blocks away. They make quick stops at the Temple of Olympian Zeus – Bellamy muttering about Zeus and his inability to keep his dick out of pretty much everything – and Hadrian’s Arch before venturing into the park proper, where they grab some lunch at a nice little café and then stroll around the area, checking out the botanical gardens and different buildings and ruins. Their finals top is Kallimarmaro, or the Panathenaic Stadium. Bellamy’s voice is much better today and he quickly gets caught up in the history of the place – the first racecourse that was built on the site way back in the sixth century BC and hosted the Panathenaic Games, the eventual abandonment of the stadium and then the excavation and reconstruction in the nineteenth century, for the first modern Olympic games in 1896.

They climb to the top of the stands on the short side of the stadium and Clarke has to admit that it is pretty impressive, especially considering it’s thousands of years old.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Bellamy asks next to her, voice going a little hoarse again. “I can’t believe this was built over two thousand years ago.”

“Pretty cool, yeah,” Clarke agrees, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder. His arm comes around her too, and he lets out a long breath. “Good Athens experience, despite the cold?” she asks after a moment.

“The best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn’t offend anyone with my ‘300’ reference – I haven’t actually seen the movie myself, I just Googled “300 historical accuracy” and judging by the hits, most people who actually care about history don’t seem to like it, so it felt like Bellamy wouldn’t be very positively inclined towards it…


	37. Only Whispers of Some Quiet Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost time to leave Europe behind and continue to the rest of the world, which also means moving away from my own experiences – I have been to Crete and Egypt, but after that it’ll be a while before we get to places I’ve actually visited myself again, so we’ll be relying solely on Google Maps for a while, hopefully it works!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100 
> 
> Chapter title from “Africa” by Toto
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Their flight to Crete leaves at nine in the morning on Sunday, so they really just have time to check out and grab a quick breakfast before leaving the hotel.

“How’s the cold?” Clarke asks once they’re in line to drop their bags at the airport. “Did you sleep OK last night?”

Bellamy had some trouble sleeping the night before, coughing keeping him up, but she didn’t notice anything last night.

“It’s much better,” he assures her, voice practically back to normal. “And I slept like a log. I think the worst part’s over, and if not, I still have the meds.”

“Good,” she says, squeezing his arm. “I want you to be able to enjoy Knossos."

“I will.”

The flight isn’t very long and they’re checked into their hotel in Heraklion by noon. They’re planning to go to Knossos tomorrow, so they spend the afternoon exploring the city, which boasts some pretty impressive historical sites too, wrapping up the day with dinner at a restaurant overlooking the harbor. Since their tickets to Knossos are for nine in the morning, they call it a night after that.

If she was still doubting that Bellamy was feeling better, all those thoughts would disappear in the morning when he practically bounces out of bed as soon as the alarm on her phone goes off.

“It’s way too early for you to be this awake,” she grumbles, rolling over and burying her face in her pillow. “Stop it.”

“I take it you don’t want first shower then?” he asks, turning off the alarm.

She doesn’t dignify that with an answer, just burrows further into the fluffy pillow, and hears him chuckle as he goes into the bathroom.

She knows she has to get up, though, so she doesn’t go back to sleep and when he emerges from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, she pulls together all the self-restraint she has and doesn’t pull off the towel slung around his hips and push him down on the bed, instead taking his place in the shower.

They make it to the palace ruins in plenty of time for their tour, and it’s very interesting, even if Clarke’s favorite part – as with most tours they’ve been on so far – is the fact that Bellamy contributes things he feels like the guide leaves out, asking about things he hasn’t even mentioned and even questioning him now and then.

They decide to stay for a while after the official tour, to explore a little more on their own, and that’s actually better than the tour. They find every little nook and cranny they’re allowed to visit and Bellamy is soon completely engulfed in the history of the site, telling her about the first Neolithic settlement dating back to 7000 BC, the palace built in the Middle Minoan period and its impressive architectural aspects and art. The sun is high in the sky when they finally decide to head out, and on their way back to the parking area where they’re hoping to find a cab, he starts telling her the legend of King Minos and the Minotaur.

“So the king hired Daedalus to build a labyrinth to contain the Minotaur. He imprisoned his enemies in the labyrinth, so that the Minotaur could eat them, because the labyrinth was so complicated that no one could ever find their way out.” He pauses. “I mean, that’s what the legend says, obviously there’s no such thing as minotaurs.”

The idea comes to Clarke in a flash, and she only hesitates for a moment before she speaks. “Yeah, minotaurs are definitely just myth,” she agrees. “But King Minos was real.”

Bellamy’s head snaps to the side to look at her and he stumbles a little on the uneven ground. “What?”

She shrugs, putting on an innocent expression. “Yeah, King Minos was an actual king. He wasn’t the son of Zeus and Europa, obviously, and his wife didn’t give birth to a child that was half-man half-bull, but he was real. He’s one of the most famous Soul Keepers in history, he was around for millennia.”

Bellamy’s jaw actually drops at that, and she feels a little bad for a moment. “Seriously? How long? Did you actually meet him?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “He’s been… gone for hundreds of years. Raven swears she used to know someone who met him, but you know how that can be, stories get twisted when they’re passed on by word of mouth.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, sounding distant. “That’s seriously cool, though.”

“It is. And you know what else?”

“What?”

Clarke leans up to be able to whisper in his ear. “April fools.”

He looks a little confused when she pulls back, but then he lets out a loud laugh and shakes his head. “Shit, I didn’t even realize it was April first. That was a good one.”

“I didn’t go too far?”

“No!” he assures her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her along so they start walking again. “It was funny. Really.”

“I thought so.”

They walk in silence for a moment before Bellamy speaks again. “So are there any famous Soul Keepers?”

“There have been some, through the ages,” she replies. “Not many, and none in the last… century or so. It was easier, I guess, back before the camera. When you needed to move on, you could fake your own death, or just leave and not stay in touch with anyone from your old life or whatever, and nobody except for people you’d actually met would recognize you, but these days, if you make it into the media, people from all over the world have access to it. Harder to disappear that way.”

“Right. I figured maybe one of those celebrities that died but people still claim to see now and then.”

She gives him an amused look. “So Elvis?”

“Not specifically, but yeah, someone like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” She thinks for a moment. “I think there were some philosophers back in, like, the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but I can’t remember their names. Probably a couple of writers and artists as well, though none of the really big ones.”

The conversation distracts her a little from the actual April fool’s joke, so she’s completely unprepared when he gets her back later in the afternoon. They’re lounging on the bed in their hotel room when he asks her to grab his phone, which is charging on the desk on her side of the bed. She doesn’t think anything of it, but just as she picks it up, an alarm so loud that she jumps goes off.

“You’re lucky I didn’t drop it,” she half-grumbles, tossing him the phone before slumping back onto the bed.

Bellamy just laughs, turning the alarm off. “You had it coming.”

And, well, she can’t exactly argue with that.

-100-

Cairo is just as bustling as Clarke remembers, even though it’s been decades since she was last here.

“This is…” Bellamy starts as they’re making their way along the perimeter of the large souq, vendors yelling, trying to lure them into their shops, kids giving them big eyes, the sound of the city intermingled with more rural noises, like chicken and goats, all around them.

“Overwhelming?” she offers, because it is. She sees the way his eyes follow a little girl with long, dark hair who’s holding out her hands with a pleading look on her face. “There’s no point in giving them anything,” she continues. “Older kids or even adults are in charge of the younger children on the street, they’d just take the money from her as soon as we turn our backs.”

He takes a deep breath. “I know. It’s just hard to see.”

Clarke squeezes his hand. “I know. Do you want to just head back to the hotel? There are plenty of restaurants there to choose from. I just wanted to show you a little bit of the real Cairo, but maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No,” he assures her, squeezing back. “I mean, yes to going back to the hotel to eat, but I wanted to see the city.”

“OK.”

They stroll around for another hour before getting a cab back to their hotel, where they find their way to its outdoor mezze restaurant with views of the Cairo museum. They order way too many of the little dishes but everything’s delicious and they linger well into the night as the heat of the day slowly fades away.

Clarke’s the first to wake up the next morning, wrapped up in the fluffy hotel comforter like a burrito. The sun is seeping in around the edges of the blackout curtains, and when she leans over to check the time, she finds it’s a little after eight. But they don’t have anything planned until a guided tour to the pyramids in the afternoon, so after she disentangles herself from her comforter and goes to the bathroom, she gets into bed again. Bellamy’s using his own comforter in the more traditional way, and she slips under it to be able to tuck her head under his chin and press close. He hums in his sleep and wraps an arm around her waist automatically.

She knows morning wood is just a biological reaction, nothing personal, but it’s still encouraging to feel him half-hard against her thigh. She slides her hand around to be able to run her nails up and down his back lightly, which she knows he likes, and presses a kiss to his collar bone, tongue darting out to taste him. When his hand tenses against her back, she pulls away enough to be able to look up at him and slides her leg up to hook around his hips, gasping at the feel of his dick against her core.

Bellamy’s hips jerk against her and then he chuckles a little, blinking at her. “Morning.”

“Mmm, morning,” she replies, sliding her fingers into his hair. “You awake enough for this?”

He leans in, nose brushing hers. “Give me a sec.”

His lips find hers, and for a long moment, that’s all there is – his mouth sliding against hers, their bodies pressed as close together as they can get, her hand tangled in his hair, his flat against the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer. When he breaks the kiss, Clarke lets out a whine in protest, but he just chuckles and trails wet, openmouthed kisses down her throat to her breast, where he pulls a nipple into his mouth. She bites her lip to keep the moan from escaping, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He stays like that until she’s panting, and when he releases her nipple, it’s only to shift his attention to the other one. She wants more, though, the tension building deep inside her, so she releases her grip on his hair to be able to slip a hand between them and get him lined up before arching her hips against him. The angle’s not perfect and he only slides in about half-way, but it certainly gets his attention and he pulls away to look at her.

“I was planning on getting you off at least once before we got to this part,” he half-complains with a smirk.

She just shakes her head. “Uh-uh. Want you.”

Bellamy slides his hand from her back, over her hip to her thigh, hitching her leg a little higher before pulling back a little and thrusting back into her, all the way this time, pulling a moan from both of them.

“I couldn’t tell,” he groans out.

“Less talking, more fucking,” she demands, getting a chuckle in return.

“Whatever my Princess wants.”

He keeps things slow, though, and for a while, it’s exactly what Clarke wants. His thrusts are hard and deep, his hand skimming every inch of her he can reach, his mouth alternating between exploring her throat, chest and shoulders, and deep, dirty kisses that she returns with fervor.

As usual, he seems to know exactly what she needs, too, because just when the pressure building inside her is starting to get unbearable, his hand slides between them. When his teeth graze her nipple a moment later, the combined feeling of that, his thumb rubbing circles against her clit and him deep inside her pushes her over the edge and she comes with a drawn-out moan.

Bellamy doesn’t last much longer himself, movements stilling just as she starts to come back down, and she wraps her arms tightly around his neck, holding him as close as she can, his breath hot against her shoulder, for a long moment.

When he pulls back a little, there’s a smile on his face. He presses a chaste kiss against her mouth before shifting back and sliding out of her. She immediately misses him, even though he’s right there, just a few inches away.

“Hey,” he says, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey,” Clarke replies, returning the smile.

“When was the tour to the pyramids again?” he asks, hand settling on her waist, thumb rubbing circles against her stomach and making her shiver.

She has to think for a moment before she can remember. “We’re getting picked up at noon, but we should probably eat something before that.”

“Plenty of time, then,” he decides, pushing her onto her back and pushing the cover away before setting between her legs.

In the end, they have just enough time to grab some sandwiches in the pool bar before their pick-up.

The drive through Cairo isn’t long, and though the city has changed a lot since Clarke was last here, she tries to keep her eyes on Bellamy. She knows the moment he spots the pyramids, his eyes widening and his mouth opening slightly.

“Amazing, aren’t they?” she says, leaning across him to be able to see out the window herself.

“I thought they’d be out in the desert,” he replies. “Not this close to the city.”

“Yeah, I know,” she agrees, glancing at their driver and guide, who introduced himself as Karim when he picked them up, but he seems focused on the road. Still, she lowers her voice a little before continuing. “They were a bit further from the city last time I was here, but that was… sixty years ago, maybe closer to seventy? There was a small oasis near them, but Cairo has grown a lot since then…”

“No kidding…”

They both watch in awe as the large structures grow the closer they get, the Sphinx coming into view soon as well. It really is a magnificent sight, and it’s not hard to experience the same amazement that she did the first time she was here.

Karim parks the car and leads them to the first stop, which is the Sphinx, where he hands them each a bottle of water. Bellamy opens his immediately, taking a deep drink, and Clarke follows his lead. The car was air-conditioned, but it’s a warm day, the sun beating down on them unforgivingly.

There are a lot of different tour groups close to them, different languages floating through the air as the guides try to explain the wonders before them. Karim waits for a few minutes, letting a couple of them wrap up and move on, before he starts his own narrative.

Clarke’s heard some of it before, of course, on her last visit, but there’s been new information uncovered since then, and she really is as fascinated as Bellamy seems, listening with rapt attention. To her surprise, he doesn’t intervene, doesn’t jump in with things he thinks Karim is missing. Not that she’s sure if he _is_ missing anything, but still.

“Nothing to add?” she asks quietly when they’re following Karim towards the first pyramid, Cheops.

Bellamy shrugs. “I was always more interested in ancient Rome and Greece, I honestly don’t know nearly as much about Egypt,” he admits. “I mean, we did do an intro course to it last year, but I haven’t really done much reading on my own.”

“You’re enjoying this, though, right?” She loops her arm with his and he gives her a squeeze.

“Of course, this is fascinating. Mummies, Princess, who doesn’t like mummies?”

They don’t actually get to see any mummies, of course, the closest they get is the mummification temple. Karim gives them the full tour and tells them everything there is to know about the pyramids and Sphinx, and they do get to go inside the pyramids, which is cool, and visit the Valley Temple. After that, they get a little time to explore on their own, which they spend just strolling around the area.

“It really is huge,” Bellamy notes when they stop at the foot of the Cheops pyramid, tilting his head back to find the top.

“It is,” Clarke agrees.

“I heard that people used to climb it,” he continues. “But that it’s illegal now.”

“It is, yeah,” she confirms, glancing at one of the cameras keeping an eye on the tourists – a new addition, apparently, along with the fence and security check at the entrance. She’s pretty sure they can’t pick up sound, though, and there aren’t any people nearby, so she doesn’t bother lowering her voice. “We did climb it last time I was here, though.”

“Really?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up.

“Don’t sound so surprised! It wasn’t illegal then, our guard actually encouraged it and climbed with us.” She turns her gaze to the pyramid. “Plus, Raven really wanted to do it. Going up wasn’t so bad, but coming down…”

“Yeah, each level’s pretty high,” Bellamy says, going a little closer. “How do you even get down?”

She shrugs. “Jumping from one level to the next, basically. Hence the reason it was outlawed back in the eighties, I think. A misstep, a loose rock in the wrong place, losing your balance…”

“And you’re going down,” he finishes for her.

Clarke nods. “Exactly.”

“And you didn’t even have anything to worry about,” he adds. “You know, being immortal and all that.”

“Well, yeah. It was still scary, though… it’s really high.” She pauses. “Besides, nobody really knows how the whole ‘self-inflicted’ thing works, like, where is the line between falling down a pyramid by accident and jumping intentionally? Raven argues it’s about intent, but I wasn’t really that interested in finding out.”

They both stand in silence for a long moment, looking up at this wonder of ancient construction that doesn’t feel like it should have been possible to build over four thousand years ago.

“Well, that got a little morbid,” Bellamy then says, and she snorts a laugh.

“It did, didn’t it?”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of her head before leading her back towards the parking lot. “We are visiting ancient tombs, after all,” he points out. “It was bound to happen.”

Their little half-day tour is wrapped up with a visit to Saqqara and the pyramid there, before Karim takes them back to the city.

It’s a little before six when they’re dropped off at their hotel, the sun starting to sink towards the horizon, but the day still nice and warm. They decide to grab an early dinner and end up at the outdoor restaurant again, which really does have amazing food. Tonight, there’s even live music and a belly dancer to entertain the guests.

They opt for beer with dinner and then order mojitos for ‘dessert’, so by the time they make it back to their room, they’re both a little unsteady on their feet and Clarke’s trying to suppress an attack of the giggles. Bellamy leads her to the bed, where she flops onto her back, before he disappears into the bathroom.

She’s still giggling on and off – she can’t even remember what got her laughing in the first place, honestly – when he emerges again. The bed is large, she’s not taking up more than two thirds of it, so he can slide under the sheets on his side without her having to move, but when he has, he nudges her shoulder.

“Go change and stuff,” he says, and she rolls onto her side to look at him. “You know you’ll regret it in the morning if you don’t.”

She heaves a sigh but does push herself to her feet and goes into the bathroom, where she pulls off her t-shirt and cargo shorts before washing her face and brushing her teeth.

Bellamy’s propped up against the headboard when she leaves the bathroom, a well-thumbed paperback he found in the little impromptu library at their hotel in Athens in his hands, but she can tell from the tension in his shoulders and the way his eyes dart up to her as soon as he hears the door close that he’s not actually reading.

“You OK?” she asks when she’s crossed the room and gotten into bed next to him.

He puts the book away with a sigh and scoots down until he’s horizontal, turning to face her.

“I don’t know, I just got to thinking…”

“Bad idea,” Clarke half-teases, getting a well-earned eye roll in return. “Seriously, what’s bothering you?”

“Not bothering exactly, just… I don’t know, it was something you said, about the whole line between accidental and intentional, I think.”

She frowns, trying to remember what exactly she said, but she can’t think of anything that would bring on some kind of crisis.

“It’s not really related to that,” he continues before she can say anything. “It just made me think.”

“OK.”

He takes a deep breath and scrubs his hand over his face, as if he needs time to figure out how to say whatever it is he’s trying to say.

“I know we talked about the whole trying to trick my Number, getting past the whole… day,” he then says, confusing her even further.

“Yeah…” She can’t help the way her eyes dart to his forehead and the Number there. 115. They talked about the whole situation just last week, when Raven called about her findings, but she hasn’t really paid much attention to his actual Number for a while. She reaches out, pushing a few curls away from his forehead, letting her finger linger on the Number for just a moment.

Bellamy’s hand comes up to wrap around her wrist and he pulls her hand away, pressing a kiss against her palm before tucking her hand against his chest.

“Like I said, it made me think,” he continues. “What if… if something happens _before_ that day. What then?”

She tries to wrap her mind around his words, connect them to her own from earlier. It’s not hard, not really, but she doesn’t _want_ to understand him. Because that would mean…

“You mean if something happens to you before your Number’s up,” she clarifies anyway, to not have to focus on her own thoughts.

His forehead furrows at her words. “Is that where that expression comes from?”

Clarke has to take a moment to recalibrate her thoughts to be able to think about his question. “I honestly don’t know,” she admits. “I guess it could be.”

“Cool. So? What would happen?”

She looks away from his questioning gaze, down at his hand where it’s covering hers against his chest.

“Your Number’s set,” she starts. “But that doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want as long as you still have days left. I don’t actually know what would happen, but my best guess? You’d end up unconscious or in a coma, waiting out the time.”

The room is silent for a long moment – or at least it feels like a long moment – after her words, before Bellamy speaks again.

“That’s pretty much what I figured. You OK?”

“Fine.” She tries to pull her hand away so she can roll away from him, but he won’t let her go.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, releasing her hand only to be able to lift her chin with a finger so she has to look at him. “I was just curious, you didn’t think I would…”

“No,” she cuts him off. “Of course not.” But his eyes are burning into hers, and she knows she won’t be able to lie. “OK, maybe a little…”

He shakes his head, an amused look on his face as if it’s completely ridiculous to even think something like that. And maybe it is.

“If you think I would give up a single second with you to try to stick it to some higher power, you don’t know me at all.”

It shouldn’t be such a big relief that it actually is. No matter what, she’s losing him in a few months. But still, hearing the words make her insides settle and she lets out a breath. “OK.”

He slides an arm around her, pulling her close, and she tucks her head under his chin.

“I want all the time with you I can possibly get,” he assures her, voice just above a whisper. “And it still won’t be enough.”

Clarke kisses his chest, pressing even closer. “I know.”

-100-

They spend the next day, their last full day in Egypt, at the Egyptian museum. Clarke considered getting a guided tour of the museum as well, but in the end, she decided against it, which turns out to be a good choice since they get to the museum right after it opens and stay until it closes.

For all Bellamy said that he didn’t know all that much about ancient Egypt, he’s still an amazing guide through the different exhibits at the museum. They check out ancient pieces of papyrus scrolls, coins of different materials, statues and sarcophagi – which is apparently the plural of sarcophagus – on the lower floor before moving onto the upper floor, where they find artifacts from various tombs unearthed throughout the region, actually get to see real mummies and finally admire the Golden mask of Tutankhamun.

They’ve gone through the entire museum and are on the second lap, taking a closer look at things they just breezed past the first time around, when a guard approaches them and clears his throat.

“I am very sorry,” he says with a heavy accent when they’re both focused on him. “But the museum is closing. You are free to come back tomorrow.”

He looks like he’s expecting them to argue, hand on the walkie-talkie attached to his belt as if he’s about to call for reinforcements. Do people actually refuse to leave a closed museum?

“Oh, shit, we’re sorry,” Bellamy apologizes, glancing at his watch. “We got caught up, didn’t even realize it was getting late. We’ll get out of your hair right away.”

The guard frowns for a moment but then seems to pull himself together. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Clarke assures him with a smile. “Just lead the way and we’ll get going.”

Their cooperation seems to put him in a good mood, and he gives them some insider information about the exhibits they pass on their way, waving them off with a smile at the exit.

They don’t actually have time to go back the next morning, but Bellamy seems happy with the experience either way.

On the receptionist’s recommendation, they get to the airport with more than three hours to spare the next morning, but they still only just make the flight to Amman, getting to the gate with fifteen minutes to spare before it closes.

“Phew,” Bellamy exclaims when the plane’s taken off and the ‘Fasten your seatbelt’ sign has been switched off. “That was cutting it close.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees. “Though, to be honest, I’m sort of counting on us missing at least _one_ flight during this trip. I mean, I hope we won’t, and it probably won’t happen because we’re late to the airport, but we have a _lot_ of connecting flights, some with pretty short layovers. And we did already have one delayed flight, to Athens, if we’d had a connecting flight there we probably wouldn’t have made it.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” He shifts so he’s leaning against the wall of the plane, pushing the armrest between them up and pulling her against his chest. “And we have a couple of… overnight flights left, right?”

She feels her heart rate pick up a little at what she hopes is innuendo in his voice and half-turns so she can look at him. “Why Mr. Blake… are you talking about joining the mile high club?”

Bellamy’s eyes dart from her to the aisle, but the cabin crew are preparing something in the galley at the front of the plane. They have the row to themselves and her voice is low enough it won’t carry to the passengers on either side of them.

“I did say I would think about it,” he replies, voice pitched low.

“And you decided you want to?”

“I reserve the right to change my mind,” he says. “I might chicken out, but yeah, I think so.”

Clarke turns more fully, so she can wrap an arm around him and bury her nose against his throat. “You couldn’t have brought this up when we _weren’t_ on a plane?”

He chuckles a little, pulling her closer. “Sorry, I thought it would be a good time.”

“Not really. But yes, to answer your question, we do have some more overnight flights.”

“When?”

It’s not like she has their itinerary memorized, so she has to check it on her phone.

“Well, Amman to the Seychelles is ten hours or so, but that’s through Doha… the Seychelles to Agra is over twenty one hours total, but two pretty long stop overs on that one, which means not that much actual time on a plane… and nineteen hours from Agra to Beijing, but with three stop overs … I think the best bet would be the flight from Manila to Sydney, it’s only eight hours, but no stop overs and it leaves at eight in the evening and lands at six in the morning, so we’ll probably get dinner as soon as we’ve taken off and then they’ll dim the lights to let people sleep.”

“So that’ll be in, what? A month and a half or so?”

She chuckles a little. “If you’re eager we can give it a try on the flight to the Seychelles, I’m not sure how long each leg of that trip is.”

“Nah, the Sydney flight will be fine,” Bellamy decides. “It gives me a little more time to get used to the idea too. I’m still not saying we’ll definitely do it, but maybe.”

Clarke puts her phone away and snuggles in even closer.

“I’m good with maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content, references to death and suicide


	38. So Hold My Hand, I'll Walk with You My Dear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly late update – if anyone noticed ;) – I had a thing yesterday and didn’t get home until late, and had no energy left for posting. Hope the chapter’s worth the wait
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

The flight to Amman isn’t long, just over an hour, but as luck would have it, their flight gets in just after two others, so by the time they’ve made it through passport control and customs, gotten their bags and caught a cab to the hotel, the sun has set and neither of them are particularly interested in exploring the city.

“We have some time tomorrow, right? For sightseeing and stuff,” Bellamy asks before face planting on the bed.

Clarke sits down next to him, leaning against the headboard and closing her eyes. She slides her hand into his hair, scratching his scalp which gets her a pleased hum. “We do, yeah, the bus for Petra doesn’t leave until three in the afternoon. I was thinking we’d check out the citadel tomorrow, maybe. And we have almost two full days when we get back too, the flight to the Seychelles doesn’t leave until late on Tuesday, so we’ll have plenty of time for the rest of the city then.”

He turns his head so he can nuzzle her thigh, breath hot through her pants. “Sounds good. So no need to leave the hotel tonight.”

“We should probably eat something,” she points out. They did get lunch on the plane, but it wasn’t much food, and her stomach is actually rumbling a little.

He opens one eye to look up at her. “Room service?”

So they end up ordering food to the room, eating by the large window with an amazing view of the lit up city twenty-two floors below them.

Clarke’s first real impression of Amman, on the cab ride from the hotel to the citadel the next day, is that it feels like any large city – at least the wide boulevards they drive down. They’re lined with palm trees, but apart from that and the signs in Arabic, it could be anywhere in a somewhat temperate climate zone. She’s sure parts of the city have a more Middle Eastern feel, though, and is looking forward to exploring them.

“This isn’t really what I was expecting,” Bellamy says after a few minutes. “Especially after Cairo, I thought Amman would be more like that, this feels much more… western, I guess.”

She nods. “I was just thinking the same thing. Not that I have a ton of experience with the Arabic world, but still.”

He turns his attention from the window and passing city to her. “You haven’t done much travelling in this part of the world?”

“Not that much, no,” she confirms. “Me, Harper, Raven and Wick, Raven’s boyfriend at the time, did a bit of a tour back in…” She pauses, glancing at their driver – he seemed to understand English fine when they got in the car, even if he didn’t speak it very well, so she’d better watch what she says. “Back when we were in Egypt. We started in Morocco and followed the Mediterranean, through Algeria, Tunisia and Libya to Egypt. Then we traveled by boat from Alexandria to Tel Aviv and continued through Israel to Lebanon, Syria and Turkey.”

Bellamy nods thoughtfully. “That sounds like an interesting trip.”

“It was,” she agrees with a nod, before frowning. “Did you want to make any more stops in the area? We never really discussed it… I don’t think Syria’s an option at the moment, but we could probably do Jerusalem or Istanbul, if you wanted.”

He shakes his head. “No, I thought about it, and there’s a lot of history but I’ve never been much for religion, or at least not the modern ones, so it’s not really my type of history, if that makes sense?”

“I get that.” Clarke nods. “Oh, and then a bunch of us celebrated Raven’s… bicentennial in Dubai, two years ago, that was amazing.”

Their cab comes to a stop and they pay the driver before getting out, buying tickets before entering the area around the citadel.

“Tell me more about Dubai,” Bellamy says once they’re inside. “I’ve always sort of imagined it as this… fairytale place, I guess, based on what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, that’s a pretty good description,” she confirms. “Have you ever been to a place that feels surreal, you know? Like it’s only been put there for tourists, almost like it would cease to exist when nobody was there to enjoy it?”

He considers her question for a moment. “Maybe Disney World. But that _has_ been created for tourists, so maybe not exactly what you mean.”

“No, I get what you’re saying, but not exactly like that.” She pauses. “I think the only other place I’ve really experienced that’s the same way is Las Vegas, so maybe I can explain it better when we get there.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, a slight frown on his face, eyes unfocused.

Clarke can’t be sure, of course, but she thinks she knows what he might be thinking about. “Did you want to go to Dubai?”

He lets out a huff of air. “Honestly, I didn’t think about it when I made my list, but if I had, I might have put it on there. But I don’t want to mess up our plans. Though if I could, I’d definitely go there some day…”

But they both know this is his only chance.

“Hey,” she says, tugging his hand until he stops and turns to face her. “Don’t worry about that. We have eight whole days, almost nine, in the Seychelles, we can take a day to make a pit stop in Dubai, if you want to. Either after this, or between the Seychelles and India. Fly in so we get there in the afternoon or early evening, then one whole day there and fly out the next morning. Two nights. So do you want to?”

She’s half expecting him to just brush it off, so it’s a surprise when he seems to really think about it.

“Are you sure? That’s two nights at the hotel in the Seychelles that we won’t use, and I know that was one of the places you splurged on. Plus flights won’t be cheap, this close to the departure dates.”

“Is that your only objection?” she asks, and Bellamy shrugs, which she takes as a yes. “All hotels and flights we have booked for this trip are refundable until the day of, so that’s not a problem. Honestly, considering the price for that hotel, I think we’d actually save money going through Dubai instead, assuming we get a not too expensive hotel there.”

His eyes widen and she can tell that he’s fighting with himself, debating whether to ask exactly how much the hotel in the Seychelles cost, but in the end, he seems to decide against it. “OK, _if_ we can get the money back for those two nights in the Seychelles and _if_ we can find flights and a hotel that won’t cost an arm and a leg.”

Clarke loops her arm through his and tugs him along down the path again. “We’ll check when we get to Petra tonight.” She pauses for effect. “How about just an arm?”

“Don’t push it.”

They stroll around the citadel for a while, Bellamy taking on the role of guide – apparently, he’s researched the place and tells her all about the Temple of Hercules, the Umayyad Palace and the Byzantine church on the site, as well as some of the sights of Amman that they see from their elevated position.

When they’ve had their fill of ruins and history – at least for the day, she doubts Belllamy could _ever_ get enough – they take a cab back to the hotel, where they have some lunch before grabbing their over-night bags from the room and boarding the bus that’s going to take them to Petra.

Once they’ve picked up the last of the tourists, their guide, a British middle-aged woman called Karen, introduces herself and gives them a quick summary of what to expect during the tour, finally telling them that she’s available for questions but, apart from that, she’ll let them enjoy the bus ride in peace.

The first half hour or so after that is pretty interesting – they weave through the city, getting a glimpse of different areas, before the buildings give way to fields of some sort of crops, passing a large shopping center, a water park and an IKEA, of all things. By the time they reach an exit indicating that they’re passing the airport, though, most of the vegetation and buildings are gone, and for the rest of the trip, it’s mostly desert extending as far as they can see in all directions.

They reach their hotel around six thirty, the sun already descending towards the mountains housing the actual ancient city. Everything’s included in the tour, so when they’ve gotten checked in, they make plans with Karen and the rest of the small group to meet for dinner at eight before going up to their room.

Clarke immediately jumps into action, calling the hotel in the Seychelles and canceling the first two nights of their stay there, no problem. Then she opens up a browser on her phone and cancels the original flight from Amman to the Seychelles before looking up new flights.

“OK…” she starts after a few minutes. “There’s only one direct flight from Amman to Dubai and that leaves at eleven in the morning, so we’ll miss most of the last day in Amman, is that OK? We’ll still have all of Monday for any sightseeing we still want to do. I don’t really want to book an eleven hour flight with a stopover when there’s a three hour direct flight that’s not even more expensive.”

Bellamy comes to look over her shoulder. “Of course, that’s fine. I’d like to check out the roman theater and the Nymphaeum, but that shouldn’t take long, we can fit that in along with some general sightseeing on Monday.”

“OK, great.” She clicks to book the flights, her phone pinging a moment later with the electronic tickets, and then changes the search for Dubai to the Seychelles. There’s a direct flight on that leg as well, so the total travelling time is actually shorter than it would have been with their initial flights. When she’s gotten those tickets booked as well, she switches to a hotel site and soon has a few different options up on the screen. “Which one looks best?” she asks, glancing up at Bellamy. “Don’t look at the prices!”

He shakes his head but there’s a smile playing on his face, and he considers the hotels. “That view is amazing,” he then says, pointing to one of the images on the screen.

It’s a good hotel, by all appearances – not too expensive, but not one of the cheapest either, and it’s out on The Palm, which is pretty cool.

“Good choice,” Clarke says, clicking the button to book their two nights. “All done. And we definitely saved money.”

He chuckles behind her, squeezing her shoulder before crossing the room to the bathroom. “Never tell me how much any of this costs, OK?”

She can’t help but let out a short laugh at that herself. “I think I can promise that, yeah.”

The group dinner ends up being a lot of fun – they’re seated next to a couple from New Zealand who are almost doing their trip but backwards, so they give each other tips for the places they’ve already been that the other couple will be visiting as well. By the time they call it a night – a few minutes before eleven, they’re meeting at eight thirty in the morning and want to get a good night’s sleep – they have the names of great restaurants off the beaten track in Beijing, Tokyo, Sydney, and Christchurch and have, in turn, recommended the bubble hotel in Iceland, a trip down to Clovelly if they have time while in London, and their favorite pizza place in Rome.

-100-

Bellamy’s already up by the time Clarke wakes up the next morning. Or, he’s awake but still in bed, scrolling on his phone, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“You know,” she starts, voice a little hoarse with sleep, making him jump a little. “I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve woken up before you on this trip.”

He chuckles at that. “It’s not my fault you’re such a sleepy head.”

“Right, _that’s_ the problem. What are you doing?”

He shows her the phone, where he has a website open with information about Petra. “Just preparing for the day.”

“You do know it’s a _guided_ tour, right?” she asks with raised eyebrows. “You don’t actually have to read up on it beforehand.”

“Sure.” He gives her an unimpressed look. “How many tours have we gone on so far?”

She can’t help the way the corners of her mouth turn up a little at his dry question. “True.” She rolls onto her side so she can prop her head on his shoulder and throw an arm across his chest and a leg across his. “What time is it?”

He closes down the browser and checks the time on the phone. “A little after seven.”

“Huh.” She lets her hand trail down his chest and stomach, slipping into his boxers. “So plenty of time before eight thirty.”

She leans in to press a kiss to his chest so she doesn’t see him put the phone away, but she hears it land on the bedside table, and then he’s flipped them so she’s on her back, his weight pushing her into the mattress. She shifts a little, letting him settle more fully between her thighs.

“Plenty of time, yeah,” he agrees, claiming her mouth in a kiss that quickly turns deep and dirty.

In the end, they have about twenty minutes to wolf down some breakfast before meeting the rest of their tour group.

Their guide leads them on foot to the visitor’s center and then onwards, and soon they enter the Siq, the narrow pathway through towering cliffs that will eventually take them into Petra proper.

“This is amazing,” Bellamy mumbles when they’ve been walking for a few minutes, craning his head back to catch a glimpse of the sky high above them, a narrow strip of pale blue. The sun has been up for a couple of hours, but in the shadow here it’s still chilly and Clarke’s glad she brought a sweater.

“It is,” she agrees.

Soon after, the pathway widens and they start spotting carvings in the rock faces on either side of it. Karen stops a little ahead of them and waits until everyone’s gathered around her, and then she starts the official tour.

It’s definitely a fascinating place, traces of people who lived here many millennia ago carved into the very stone. Karen starts telling them about the origin of the city, the people who lived there. They leave the Siq behind after a little while, and after that, it’s basically one sight after another, impression after impression – the Treasury, with its impressive sandstone façade, a number of different tombs and churches, the Nabatean theatre and finally the monastery Ad-Deir, with vast, breathtaking views of the city and surrounding mountains.

Bellamy barely lowers Raven’s camera as they walk along, snapping photos of everything around them, and they even manage a selfie with the impressive Royal Tombs in the background, which Clarke immediately uploads to Facebook – they’ve been slacking a little on that front lately.

By the time they head back through the Siq towards the hotel, the entire group is tired but in good spirits, talking about the tour, all the impressions, their favorite parts. They enjoy a nice lunch at the hotel restaurant before everyone checks out and piles onto the bus for the ride back to Amman. They take the longer way around this time, getting a good view of the Dead Sea for part of the way. They don’t stop, so they can’t take a dip, but it’s still interesting to see the turquoise water with the white salt remnants along the edges.

They get back to the hotel late, and it’s tempting to just order room service, but they manage to gather up enough energy to at least leave the room and find their way to the restaurant on the tenth floor, which offers a beautiful view of the city. They do head back to their room after dinner, though, watching a couple of old _Seinfeld_ episodes dubbed to French, for some reason, before getting ready for bed.

Clarke’s in that in-between state before you quite fall asleep when she hears Bellamy just behind her.

“What do you think happens after you die?”

His voice is low enough, just above a whisper, that she knows she could pretend to be asleep if she wanted to, but this is the first time he’s brought it up since she told him about the whole thing. So she turns in his arms, shifting away a little so she can meet his eyes.

“I know you said that you don’t know what happens, I get that,” he continues. “But… what do you _think_? You must have thought about it.”

She lets her eyes slide to his Number – 111, so little time left – as she considers his question.

“I have thought about it, yeah,” she finally says, slowly. “I don’t think it’s possible to avoid, doing what I do. I think I’ve believed in most of the common theories from different religions through the years, to be honest.”

He chuckles lowly at that. “Hard to make up your mind?”

“More like… re-evaluating my beliefs when presented with new perspectives,” she says with a half-shrug. “Back in late nineteenth century United States, when I started out, the only religious option was Christianity, really, so it was sort of my default belief back then. It wasn’t until I moved to New York for the first time, in 1886, that I really came into contact with other religions.”

“I can’t even imagine what the city was like back then,” he murmurs. “It must have been so different.”

“It was,” she confirms. “Brooklyn Bridge had been finished a few years earlier, and Central Park, but I doubt you’d recognize it. But I’m getting off topic.”

“Religion, right.”

“Yeah. I lived in the Soul Keeper building back then, it was in the area that’s Soho and Lower Manhattan today, close to where Tribeca Park is, I think. It’s been torn down since then.” Clarke pauses, trying to call back the memories from those days. “Anyway, immigrants from all over the world were starting to arrive in the US, and New York, which of course meant new cultural and religious perspectives.”

“The true melting pot,” Bellamy notes. “The way it should be, people with different backgrounds, learning from each other and evolving together.”

She has to smile at his phrasing. “Exactly. So yeah, I started coming in contact with other religions and cultures, both in actual life – we had neighbors from a lot of different European countries and also some from the Middle East, and through the memories of the souls I helped move on, and it was… the teachings of Christianity had never really sat well with me, I don’t know why. The whole burden of sin and resurrection or punishment, and the one God, a single higher power ruling over everything… it didn’t feel right for me, not with what I was doing.”

“You don’t think an omniscient God would rely on humans to handle the transfer of souls?” he asks, voice genuine.

“Not really, no. I believe in some sort of higher power, I can’t _not_ , but a single, all seeing God that’s just hanging out not doing anything about the situation in the world right now… I can’t believe in that.”

“Why should I respect a capricious, mean-minded, stupid God who creates a world that is so full of injustice and pain,” he says quietly, and she nods.

“Nice Stephen Fry reference,” she replies with a half-smile, which he returns.

“So you started getting other views of religion,” Bellamy brings the conversation back to the subject at hand.

“I did, yeah… at first it was mostly Judaism and Islam, especially in New York and Boston, and they’re not really all that different from Christianity when it comes to the afterlife, but they still offered different perspectives, you know? Then I went back to the west coast and San Francisco, which had a significant Chinese population back then. That’s when I came in contact with Buddhism and reincarnation for the first time.”

Clarke pauses, lets him consider her words for a moment, since she just realized that they’ve never really talked about belief or religion. She has no idea what Bellamy himself might believe, and the last thing she wants to do is insult him in some way.

His brow is furrowed, which tells her he’s thinking hard about something, and after a moment, he nods once. “That’s where I usually end up too, when I actually think about it,” he says. “I don’t know if I really believe in any kind of… not _life_ after death, obviously, but existence, maybe? But sometimes you want to believe in something, you know?”

She nods, finding his hand, which is resting on the bed between them, and interlacing their fingers.

“I know. So the theory of reincarnation was… it was the first thing I came across that felt like it might be possible. I knew that there had to be _something_. Or, I didn’t know, not really but… why would we be doing all of this, helping souls leave this world, if there’s nothing after?”

“That wouldn’t make sense,” he agrees.

“Exactly. So in a way, reincarnation felt like the final pieces of the puzzle slotting into place.” She pauses, hesitates for a moment. Bellamy knows about Finn, in the abstract – Raven had a Norm boyfriend who died – but they’ve never really talked about it in depth. She knows Raven wouldn’t mind her telling Bellamy more, though, so she continues. “Raven and I talked about it a lot back then too. I was in Boston back in 1899, when Finn died, and after that we were relocated to San Francisco together, since I didn’t want to leave her to her own devices after losing him. I had already started thinking about all of that, and Raven was suddenly interested in it too, which I suppose makes sense…”

“Yeah, Octavia had a phase like that after our mom died,” he says. “We were never religious or anything – our grandparents were Catholics, they went to church and forced Mom to go to church, used religion as a weapon, she used to say, and she rebelled against it even growing up. After they kicked her out, using religion as a reason it wasn’t OK for her to even kiss a guy outside of marriage, I guess she cut all ties to the church, so we didn’t have any of that growing up. But yeah, after she died, Octavia obviously had a hard time, and I figured if it made her feel better to look into different beliefs about the afterlife, it couldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, that was basically my take on Raven as well. And it’s…” Clarke pauses, tries to form her thoughts into actual words that make sense. “Like I said, reincarnation was the first thing I’d come across that felt like it could actually happen. And since then, I’ve had… OK, not _proof_ , I don’t know if there’s such a thing as actual, concrete proof of that, but… right, you know about déjà vu?”

Bellamy frowns but nods. “The feeling that you’ve experienced something before? Sure.”

“So it’s not quite like that,” she continues. “But it’s probably the best way to actually explain it. Sometimes – not very often, it’s happened to me, like, four times or something, which makes sense considering how many people there actually are in the world – when I meet someone new, I have this overwhelming feeling that I’ve already met them. And not just, like, oh, I know you from somewhere. I mean I get extremely detailed flashbacks to when I actually did meet a completely different person, fifty, sixty, a hundred years ago. I can pass a woman on the streets of New York and get vivid images of how I ordered from a waiter at a restaurant in London in the fifties.”

He’s been watching her intently while she’s been speaking, and when she stops, he lets out a long breath. “Yeah, that’s definitely… not actual proof, like you said, but it would absolutely make sense with reincarnation.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think too.” Clarke pauses before going on, picking up the earlier thread of conversation, curious about which way Octavia might lean. “So did Octavia find a theory she liked?”

“She did, and she was the one who really introduced me to reincarnation,” he says. “I had heard about it, of course, we’d studied Buddhism and Hinduism in school, but I never really got into it. She went through the whole heaven and hell, paradise, all those things, but she didn’t like them – “there are so many people, Bell, how would every single one fit in heaven?” she asked me – and in the end, she settled on reincarnation. I swear, she must have read everything there was about it, she practically lived at the library for weeks, and then she gave me a thorough introduction – she even made a PowerPoint presentation and borrowed a friend’s computer to show me – with all the arguments for and against it.”

She can’t help but smile at that. “So she sold you on the whole thing.”

“Yeah.” Bellamy lets out a sigh. “And maybe it’s the need to believe in _something_ , especially now that…” He cuts himself off, takes a deep breath.

“I know,” she assures him.

He smiles down at her, but it’s not a happy smile, not really.

“I guess I just… I want to believe that maybe I’ll see you again. Somehow.”

She moves closer, wrapping an arm around him and feeling his wrap around her, and hides the tears that rise in her eyes against his chest. “Me too.”

-100-

Their last day in Amman is both intense, in that they spend most of it on foot, and laid back, since they mostly just stroll around with no real goal in mind. They leave the hotel right after breakfast, setting out on foot in the general direction of the downtown area, which, according to Bellamy’s research, is where the roman theater and Nymphaeum are located. The immediate area around their hotel is basically residential – there are some restaurants nearby, but it’s mostly private homes. It only takes them about twenty minutes to get to more commercial areas, though, stores lining the street selling everything from standard souvenirs and clothes to traditional scarves and hand painted pottery. They peruse the goods on sale, neither of them really looking for anything in particular, as they wind their way along the streets, admiring the grand mosque when they reach it.

They take a right at the next street corner, and halfway down the street, Bellamy pauses, eyebrows furrowing.

“Something wrong?” Clarke asks, coming to a stop next to him.

“I think this might be…” he starts, squinting to be able to read a sign on the other side of the street. “Yeah, that’s the Nymphaeum.”

“Yeah? Come on then.”

There’s a cast-iron fence along the sidewalk, so they have to continue almost all the way to the end of the street before they can cross.

“There’s not really much to see,” he says, almost apologetically, when they stop by the information sign.

“I already know you’re a history nerd,” she assures him, nudging her hip against his. “You don’t have to pretend ruins don’t do it for you.”

He huffs a laugh and wraps an arm around her. “Good to know.”

There really isn’t that much to see, though. Apparently, there used to be a large pool with a fountain, but all that’s left now are some of the columns and a hole in the ground. There are a few guys working in one corner, so it seems like the excavation is still ongoing.

“OK, we can keep going,” Bellamy says after a few minutes.

“You sure?” she asks. “We’re not in any hurry.”

He gives her an amused look. “Even I can’t stare at ruins for too long, Princess.”

“Fine,” Clarke agrees with an exaggerated sigh and he pinches her side. “Want to grab some lunch before we go looking for the roman theater?”

“Sounds good.”

They find a nice little coffee shop selling sandwiches and settle in for a while – they did do quite a bit of walking yesterday, and Clarke’s legs, at least, are a little sore.

When they feel like they’ve taken up a table for long enough, they set off again, eventually making their way to the roman theater. They already saw it from the citadel the other day, but it’s even more impressive up close, and they climb to the very top of the stands, where they get an interesting view of the city and its hills.

They explore the adjacent folklore museum as well, which is interesting but small, and then the plaza outside.

“Anything else you want to check out?” Clarke asks once they’ve started ambling in the direction of the street. “Any more roman ruins? Museums?”

Bellamy considers for a moment, reaching for her hand and interlacing their fingers. “I think I’m good,” he finally says. “Petra was the main attraction for me in Jordan, and we’ve done the city.”

“So back to the hotel to pack, grab some dinner and then early to bed?”

“Sounds like a perfect plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mentions of death and the afterlife, religious discussions – not trying to offend anyone in any way


	39. In the Still of the Night You Need to Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, and time for a bit of a break – I definitely wouldn’t mind spending a week or two at the hotel in the Seychelles, it’s probably as close to paradise you can get… check it out if you’re missing crystal clear seas and pristine beaches!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings
> 
> Chapter title from “Bed” by SYML which has been playing on repeat here for a while…

The approach to Dubai airport is spectacular, to say the least.

“Wow,” Bellamy murmurs, nose practically touching the plane window. “Is that Burj Khalifa over there?”

Clarke leans across him to get a look herself, and has to admit that it’s an impressive sight – last time she was here, they both arrived and left in the middle of the night, which definitely offered an amazing view of the city all lit up, but she hasn’t had this view of it before. “Yup, that’s it. And that’s The World just down there, the artificial archipelago. And The Palm a little further away, that’s where our hotel is.”

He leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “That’s so cool. I mean, I knew we were staying there, but it’s different, seeing it.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Just wait until we’re down there.”

They get through security in a flash, especially compared to Amman, and it’s only a little after four in the afternoon when they leave the airport.

And walk into an almost physical wall of heat.

She checked the weather forecast yesterday, so they knew the difference was going to be around twenty-five degrees, with temperatures in the high nineties today and a little lower tomorrow, but it’s hard to actually prepare yourself for that.

They stop at the end of the line to the cabs and Bellamy wipes some sweat off his forehead. “I knew it was going to be hot,” he starts, rummaging around in his backpack until he comes up with his sunglasses and slides them on. “But this is next level.”

“I know,” Clarke agrees, fanning herself with her hand, which doesn’t help at all. “It’s the desert heat, I think – ninety degrees here is totally different from ninety degrees in New York.”

“Oh yeah.”

They have nothing scheduled today, both because the whole visit to Dubai was a last minute change and because she doesn’t like booking stuff on the day they arrive, just in case the flight is delayed, and they’re both overheated and tired when they get to the hotel, so they just check in, get changed and hit the pool. They find two sunbeds under an umbrella and Clarke flops down on one of them while Bellamy jumps straight into the pool, disappearing under the surface for a moment before coming back up, shaking the water out of his hair.

“Come on, it’s amazing,” he tells her and, well, she doesn’t need to be told twice.

They’re not alone in the pool, but it’s huge and there’s nobody nearby, so they play around for a while, splashing each other, before retreating to the sunbeds.

Since they have a pretty packed day tomorrow, they grab an early dinner in the restaurant, catching the sunset in the process, and then enjoy the somewhat cooler night air on their balcony for a little while before bed.

They get an early start on Wednesday, eating breakfast before getting picked up at eight and heading out into the desert for a quad bike safari. They even get to try sand boarding before their driver takes them back to the city and Deira, one of the city’s older parts. They grab some delicious shawarma for lunch and then explore the different souks and narrow alleys before taking an abra across the bay and continuing through Bur Dubai, another older area.

“You know, this is definitely not what I expected from Dubai,” Bellamy notes when they’re stopped in front of the fortified walls of Al Fahidi Fort, now housing the Dubai Museum.

“I know, you think it’s all flashy skyscrapers and luxury,” Clarke replies. “But there’s stuff like this too… do you want to check it out? We have a couple of hours before we need to be at the Burj Khalifa.”

He considers for a moment. “Do you think it’s air conditioned?”

It turns out that it is, and they spend an hour and a half strolling between exhibits, learning more about Dubai’s history and culture. It’s a nice break from the relentless sun, but by the time they leave the museum again, the temperature’s risen even more, above a hundred degrees, Clarke is sure.

“Please tell me Burj Khalifa is either really close by or really far, so we can take a cab,” Bellamy says.

“Well, I know it’s not close,” she replies, opening up Google Maps on her phone. “Yeah, it’s a two hour walk, so that’s not happening.”

She looks around, spotting a cream colored cab parked a bit further down the street, and they hurry to catch it before anyone else does.

When they get there, they still have forty-five minutes before their time slot to Burj Khalifa, so they check out the mall for a little while.

Clarke did go to Burj Khalifa last time she was here, but it’s just as amazing the second time around. They’re greeted with drinks and snacks in the lounge on the ground floor, before a guide brings them to the actual tower and tells them about the building.

“OK, brace yourself,” she tells Bellamy when they enter the elevator that will take them to the 124th floor.

He frowns at her. “Why?”

“This is the fastest elevator in the world,” she explains. “Or it was two years ago, but I don’t think that’s changed. It only takes a minute to go 124 floors.”

“Seriously?”

She doesn’t respond – the elevator doors close and they shoot upwards at that moment, which speaks for itself.

“Whoa,” he breathes out as the elevator slows to a stop on the 124th floor.

“I know, right?”

They’re ushered out of the elevator and into another one that will take them the rest of the way, and within moments, the doors open to reveal the top floor lounge, where more refreshments await them.

After that, they’re left to their own devices, and start making a slow circuit of the floor, checking out the view in different directions. They catch a few minutes of the fountain show far below, spot The World out at sea and almost make out The Palm in the distance.

When the sun sinks closer to the horizon, they come to a stop on the open air terrace, the wind ruffling both their hair despite the high glass walls surrounding them.

“This is amazing,” Bellamy notes, eyes fixed on the setting, golden orb.

“It’s beautiful,” Clarke agrees.

They’re standing close together, hands brushing, and she hooks a finger around one of his. Had they been somewhere else, she wouldn’t have hesitated to move in front of him to let his arms circle her and enjoy the sunset wrapped in each other, but even though she’s pretty sure it would be fine, she doesn’t want to risk it.

A hush falls over the terrace as the sun finally dips below the horizon, continuing for a minute or two after dusk falls. Then it’s like someone snaps their fingers, and everyone continues on their way.

The two of them linger a little longer, watching the lights below twinkle to life, before returning inside and starting their descent.

They catch the fountain show from ground level as well, before returning to their hotel for dinner.

“So,” Clarke starts when they’re in bed. “Considering we had a total of… forty hours in Dubai, do you feel like it was worth the trip?”

Bellamy’s sitting on the edge of his side of the bed, checking something on his phone, and he puts it down and gets under the sheets before he responds.

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’m sure you can keep busy for weeks here – that indoor ski slope would have been cool to check out – but this was good. Really good.”

She slides closer, settling in with her head on his chest. “Good, I’m glad.”

-100-

When they get through security at Seychelles International Airport on Mahé the next day, there’s a serious looking man holding up an iPad with Clarke’s almost-correctly-spelled name on it waiting for them.

“Private chauffeur?” Bellamy asks amusedly.

She shrugs. “It’s kind of tricky getting to the hotel, so I figured it would be easiest to just use their transfer service.”

He gives her a searching look but she just returns it with a smile before greeting their driver.

Of course, it doesn’t take long before they’re at the harbor, leaving the car for a boat instead, and she can’t really hide their destination any longer.

“Please don’t tell me you rented a private island,” Bellamy says with a sigh, though he looks sort of excited at the prospect.

“Not private,” she tells him. “There are nine other villas on it.”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh, offering his hand while she climbs aboard the boat and then following. “No wonder it was cheaper cancelling two nights and going to Dubai instead.”

“Told you.”

The boat ride isn’t long either, and soon, they’re approaching the dock on Round Island.

Their driver – who is actually their butler during their stay and introduced himself as Michel – instructs them to leave their bags on the landing and then leads them off the wooden dock and along a pathway that cuts through the lush vegetation and climbs slightly towards the center of the island.

They pass one villa, which is already occupied, judging by the couple lounging on the deck, and then Michel stops at the second one.

“This is where you will be staying during your visit,” he tells them, handing a key to Clarke. “I am at your disposal from nine in the morning to nine in the evening, and the rest of the time there is a night butler on call. You can reach us using the phone in the villa, simply press zero and you will be connected with reception. Is there anything you require assistance with at this moment?”

“Thank you,” she replies, taking the key. “I think we’re good for now, we’ll just get settled in and maybe go to the restaurant for some lunch in a bit.”

He nods once. “I can have something prepared and sent over, if you prefer staying here? We have your food preferences in the system, I assume those are correct.”

She glances at Bellamy, who is still looking a little shell shocked and shrugs.

“That would be great, thank you,” she says and Michel nods again before returning the way they came.

She unlocks the door and opens it, turning to give Bellamy a questioning look. “You coming?”

He shakes his head, as if clearing it. “Of course.”

The villa’s pretty much what she thought it would be, based on the images from the resort’s website. The front door leads to an open plan living space with a kitchen along one wall, a table seating four in the middle, and two soft looking couches by the large, floor to ceiling windows overlooking their private terrace and pool with the sea beyond. The door to the bedroom is open and she sticks her head in, finding a king size bed and a smaller sitting area. The furniture looks local, dark wood and rattan, and give the space a calm, tropical vibe. She catches a glimpse of the outdoor tub she knows is on the terrace off the bedroom as well before returning to the living area.

“So, first thoughts?” she asks, pulling Bellamy out of whatever daze he seems to be in.

“Honestly? This is… it’s basically paradise,” he says, unable to keep a smile off his face. “I can’t believe we get to stay here for a week.”

Clarke crosses the room and wraps her arms around him, leaning her head against his shoulder. “So you like?”

He squeezes her back. “I love. I still think you spent way too much on this, but… yeah, I love it.”

“You know what?” she asks, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Just seeing that look on your face made it worth every single penny.” He huffs a laugh at that and she slips out of his arms, interlacing their fingers and tugging him along towards the front door. “Come on, there’s more to see.”

He follows her happily and she pulls him along out the door and down a few wooden steps to a stone patio with an outdoor eating area – table and some chairs under a pergola – to their right, and onwards down to the wooden deck by the small infinity pool. There’s an umbrella, two sun loungers and a small wooden table between them. Beyond the terrace, there’s a path leading to some stairs that she knows will take them to a beach that’s not technically private but still secluded.

Here, behind the villa, they’re pretty much hidden from view in all directions – the building behind them, dense vegetation to their right and the high wall of the villa next door to their left. She can’t see the actual house, which should mean they can’t see them either.

She’s hoping they’ll be able to have some fun out here…

Bellamy flops down on one of the sun loungers, leaning back and closing his eyes with a sigh, and she takes the other one, turning her head to be able to study him.

“So what do we have planned while we’re here?” he asks after a moment.

Apart from letting her know what he wanted to do at the different stops on their trip, he didn’t really get very involved in the actual planning, which is how she was able to keep this hotel – and the one in Bora Bora – a complete secret.

“Nothing,” she tells him, getting a surprised look.

“Nothing?” he repeats. “I mean, I know you said we were just going to relax, but I figured you still had something planned.”

Clarke shrugs. “Nope, we have absolutely nothing planned for the next week. I wanted this to be a complete break, I figured we’d need it, so it’s seven days of nothing but relaxing, enjoying the sun and sea, and eating great food. The restaurant on the island’s supposed to be amazing.”

“Huh.” He frowns, and she wonders if maybe she should have made some plans. She knows he’s not great at having downtime – he proved as much during the time he had off before they left New York.

“I mean, there is stuff to do,” she adds. “There’s a spa somewhere, and a gym. They have snorkeling equipment we can borrow, and kayaks. Moyenne Island is a nature reserve, it’s accessible by kayak.”

While she talks, a smile spreads on Bellamy’s face, and when she finally falls silent, he reaches out to squeeze her hand.

“It wasn’t a complaint,” he assures her. “I was just a little surprised, I thought you preferred having everything scheduled down to the minute.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Well, now I’ve scheduled a week of doing nothing.”

He laughs. “Fine by me. But I do want to go snorkeling.”

“Oh, yeah, obviously.”

At that moment, there’s a knock on the front door, and when they round the corner, they find Michel and a colleague with their bags and a tray with two plates covered with cloches.

They get their bags stowed away in the bedroom before bringing the food to the outdoor table – it turns out to be two salads, one with tuna and one with chicken, and they also grab two bottles of some local beer from the fridge.

It’s still hot, though not as bad as Dubai, and the bonus here is that as soon as they’ve finished their late lunch, they can change into swimwear and jump in the pool.

Which is basically how they spend the next couple of days.

The sleep in, letting the sun wake them in the mornings and not getting out of bed until one of their stomach’s start rumbling.

They order room service or cook themselves, using the food that was already in the fridge when they arrived and whatever Michel restocks during his visits – either the housekeepers are checking the kitchen and letting him know what they’ve used, or he’s actually psychic, which Clarke wouldn’t completely rule out.

They lounge about by the pool or venture down to the small beach below, which seems to be just for their villa – nobody else bothers them, anyway.

They christen every flat surface – and some horizontal ones – in and around the villa, trying out sex in the pool (though not the sea, there are usually people paddling or snorkeling further out and Bellamy flat out refuses), on both couches, the dining table and kitchen counter, and even, to Clarke’s surprise, the outdoor tub. Though it’s late at night, everything dark and silent around them, with no chance of anyone without night vision goggles seeing anything, so that’s probably why he only puts up a minimum of protests before agreeing. And the bed, of course, but that sort of goes without saying. They have _a lot_ of sex in the bed.

They don’t actually leave the villa and its immediate surroundings until Saturday night, when they venture to the restaurant and actually interact with people other than Michel and the woman who’s come to clean the villa the last two days.

It seems all villas on the island are occupied – there are six middle aged couples split over three tables, two families with five children between them, ranging from a baby sleeping in a stroller to two girls who look to be around nine, and one younger couple, probably around Bellamy’s or a little younger.

They’re seated at the table next to the young couple and strike up a conversation pretty quickly. Luke and Glass are twenty-nine and twenty-eight, from Seattle and on their honeymoon, paid for by Glass’ wealthy grandparents. They arrived a few days before Clarke and Bellamy and only have another day and a half before they head back home, which Glass laments.

“I mean, this place… isn’t it just paradise?”

Clarke smiles, remembering Bellamy’s initial reaction on their arrival. “That’s exactly what this one said when we got here,” she replies, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Right?”

He’s deep in conversation with Luke about… _Brooklyn 99_? He turns at her voice, though, and gives her a smile. “What was that, Princess?”

“I was just saying how you thought this place was paradise,” she tells him.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her temple. “Have I said today how glad I am I let you talk me into this?”

“Not today.”

“Well, I am.” He goes back to his conversation with Luke but leaves his arm around her, toying with the strap of her dress as he speaks.

Clarke turns back to Glass, who’s giving her a knowing smile. “You two are just adorable,” she says.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “You guys are the newlyweds.”

They make plans to go snorkeling with Luke and Glass the next morning, so they’ll actually leave the villa at least once, and then wrap the night up with some really amazing sex on one of the sun loungers, the salty sea breeze cooling their overheated bodies.

Snorkeling turns into lunch, which turns into kayaking over to Moyenne Island, where they explore some of the trails on the island and check out the local wildlife – tortoises, sharks, lizards – before grabbing a drink at the restaurant on the beach and kayaking back as the sun sets.

They have breakfast with Luke and Glass on Monday morning, before the other couple leaves for the airport, but after that, they pretty much go back to how they were the first couple of days. A couple in their seventies takes over Luke and Glass’ villa, and while Clarke and Bellamy do join the other guests for dinner at the restaurant in the evenings, they don’t really have much in common with any of the couples or families, so they keep themselves to themselves during the days.

Which is great, of course, and exactly what Clarke was hoping for when she booked their stay here. She does manage to convince Bellamy to go for a couple’s massage in the spa on Thursday, their last full day in the Seychelles, but that’s about it.

Their last morning starts like all the others. The sun peaking in through the wooden shutters wakes her up and she yawns and checks the time on her phone – only a little after eight. They’re not in any real hurry, their boat back to the mainland will leave at eleven thirty for their flight at half past two in the afternoon, and they packed last night, so all they have to do is have some breakfast before Michel shows up to escort them down to the docks. They can continue the tradition of enjoying an hour or two in bed before actually starting the day, so she stretches and rolls over to face Bellamy, who’s still asleep.

She wouldn’t say that she’s _forgotten_ about his Number – she knows it’s steadily counting down, but it’s been mostly background noise for her lately, an underlying tension that she can mostly ignore, and she hardly ever actively notices it.

Now, though, it’s literally staring her in the face – 99.

It’s not like she didn’t know it was coming, the day his Number would go from three digits to two, but for some reason, it actually happening has her heart racing and her breath coming in shallow gasps.

It’s such a small thing but so _final_ , somehow. It doesn’t make sense to her, but she’s powerless to stop it either way.

Not wanting to wake Bellamy with her panic attack, she manages to get out of bed and wrap one of the complimentary robes around herself before tiptoeing around the bed towards the door to the living area.

She doesn’t make it all the way, though.

“Hey, where are you going?” Bellamy’s sleepy voice comes from behind her just as she reaches out to open the door.

She tries to take a deep breath and pull herself together before responding. “Just hungry, I was going to start breakfast.”

Even she can hear that she sounds like she’s about to start crying, and sure enough, at that moment she feels the first tear trail down her cheek.

He’s in front of her in a second, leaning down to look at her, one hand cupping her cheek and the other wiping the tear away. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her eyes dart to his forehead of their own accord, the double nines mocking her, and she looks away, out the window. “It just…”

“Tell me,” he insists, gently turning her face so he can look her in the eye. “Did it, like, jump a month overnight or something?”

Despite the tears still threatening to fall, Clarke can’t help but let out a watery laugh at that. “No, of course not, that’s not possible.”

“Then what is it?” he asks, brushing away another tear with his thumb.

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. “It’s ninety-nine today.”

He’s quiet for so long she finally looks up at him, wondering if this is it, if this is what will finally crack him. She’s been half-expecting it for months now, ever since she told him the truth.

But when she meets his eyes, the corner of his mouth tugs up a little. “Oh,” is all he says.

“Oh?” she repeats. “That’s it?”

He shrugs, half-smile turning into more of a grimace, and runs a hand through his hair. “Trust me, I’m waiting for the big breakdown too, and I have no doubt it’s coming. I just… I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping count or anything, but I figured this was coming up pretty soon. It is April, after all.”

Clarke’s heart rate has slowed down and she can breathe more normally now, so she reaches out to squeeze his hand, offering some support in return.

“It is,” she agrees. “I can’t believe we’re, like, halfway through the trip, too.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “Really?”

“Yeah. We left New York on January twentieth and we’ll be back on July twentieth, so April nineteenth is pretty much smack bang in the middle.”

“Huh.” He squeezes her hand back, tugging a little on it. “Crisis over? Because I would hate to break our morning tradition…”

She rolls her eyes at that but lets him pull her back to bed. “Seriously?”

“What?” he asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed and giving her an innocent look even as he tugs the belt on her robe open. “After this, we have a bunch of long flights, and our schedule will be packed again, right? So who knows when we’ll have time to enjoy a lazy morning in bed next?”

He does have a point, of course, and her heart rate is starting to pick up again, though for much more pleasant reasons now, as Bellamy’s hands slide around her waist and down to her butt, pulling her closer.

“I suppose…” she says slowly, pretending to not be quite sure, but she does climb into his lap all the same, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. “If you had something… nice in mind.”

His hands flex against her skin and she presses even closer, grinding down against him. She’s glad she didn’t realize right away that he was naked, their conversation just now would have been a little difficult to focus on if she had.

He’s still soft against her, but his hips jerk up in response and his eyes darken. “Oh, I’ll show you nice.”

Clarke has absolutely no doubt about that, but she still feels like teasing him a little. “Oh yeah? And how were you planning to do that?”

He cocks his head to the side, as if considering her question.

“This might be a good first step,” he then says, reaching up to push the robe off her shoulders. She releases her hold on him for a moment, to let it slide down her arms and onto the floor. He presses a kiss to her shoulder before looking up at her. “OK?”

She nods once before wrapping her arms around him again and leaning down for a kiss, which he happily returns, hands anchoring on her hips.

It stays pretty innocent for a while – or at least as innocent as a naked make-out session can be – just lips and tongues sliding together slowly, her fingers tightening in his curls now and then, his digging into her hips. Then Bellamy slides a hand between them, flicking her nipple with his thumb, and she has to break the kiss to suck in a breath.

He takes the opportunity to trail down her throat and shoulders, placing open mouthed kisses against her breast before pulling a nipple into his mouth, and she lets out a gasp at the feeling. He covers her other breast with his hand, twirling that nipple between his fingers, and she rocks against him, desperate for some friction. She can feel him getting harder against her and trails a hand down his back, letting her nails scrape his skin on the way back up, like she knows he likes. She’s rewarded with a full body shiver and another jerk of is hips, and then his teeth graze her nipple lightly before he pulls back.

“Shit, Princess, you have any idea what you do to me?”

Clarke assumes it’s a rhetorical question, but she still shifts back a little, getting a hand between them to wrap around him.

“Mmm, I think so.”

He lets out a ragged breath at the feeling of her fingers on his dick, his eyes sliding closed, and she leans her forehead against his as she works him slowly.

After only a few tugs, his hand closes around her wrist and she releases him immediately, rising up on her knees slightly as he lines himself up, then sinking down, taking him all the way inside her.

They both moan at the feeling, pausing for a moment.

Bellamy’s the first to move, sliding one hand up and around her neck to pull her down for a kiss which quickly turns messy, all teeth and tongue. She returns it eagerly, wrapping an arm around him as she starts moving.

He seems to understand what she needs, and it’s heated and fast, both of them chasing release and reaching it within moments of each other. She collapses against his shoulder first, and a few seconds later, he lets them both fall backwards onto the bed, arms tightening around her.

“See?” he says a little breathlessly, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “A much better way to start our last day in paradise.”

Clarke buries her face against his throat and breaths him in. “Much better, yeah. So, breakfast and then a final dip in the sea?”

He chuckles but does let go of her so she can get up. “Way to ruin the afterglow,” he half complains, but when she holds out her hand, he lets her pull him up.

They both put on a minimum of clothes – a bikini for her, swimming trunks for him – before making scrambled eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast. When the food’s all gone, they race down to the beach and splash around in the water for a while before returning to the villa to get properly dressed and pack the last few things.

When Michel shows up at a little after eleven, they’re lounging in the shadow on the terrace, and Clarke has to admit that it’s a little bittersweet to leave the villa behind. It was definitely a little slice of paradise, just for them.

But they have a lot left of the trip, and she knows there are other amazing places to discover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	40. So Sit on Top of the World and Tell Me How You're Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for two slightly briefer stops! We’re also getting closer to another family reunion, which was a lot of fun to write and I’m really looking forward to sharing with you guys :)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Take My Hand” by Dido

By the time they finally check into their hotel in Agra, both Clarke and Bellamy have trouble staying upright, and their clothes are sticking to their bodies. It’s definitely close to a hundred degrees outside, if not warmer.

They both managed to get some sleep at the airport in Abu Dhabi, where they had an eight hour stop over and she’d had the foresight to book a room at the on-site hotel. The actual flights were pretty short, though, just three or four hours each, so they never really had a chance to settle in and get any rest. Which means they’ve had maybe five hours of sleep total since yesterday morning, on top of the regular tiredness that always comes from traveling for almost twenty-four hours straight.

“Early night?” Bellamy suggests as soon as the door to their room closes behind them, dropping his bags and collapsing on the bed.

“Definitely,” Clarke agrees, turning the temperature on the AC down a little. “But probably not yet.”

He sighs. “Why not? What time is it even?”

She turns off flight mode on her phone and waits for the time to update. “Seriously?”

He opens an eye at her disbelieving voice. “What?”

“It’s three forty-five,” she tells him, continuing when he raises a questioning eyebrow. “An hour and a half ahead of the Seychelles – the time zone is GMT plus five and a half hours.”

“Five and a half? I didn’t even know there were places who had half time zones.”

Clarke joins him on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and enjoys the cool air against her overheated skin. “Me neither, but here we are.”

“OK, so we should probably try to stay up for another… four hours at least?”

She hums in agreement, grabbing a brochure for the Taj Mahal from the bedside table and flipping it open. “Well, the Taj opens at sunrise, so if we do fall asleep way too early and wake up at, like, five in the morning, we can get that out of the way before breakfast.”

Bellamy lets out a snort at that before pushing himself to his feet, as if worried he really is going to fall asleep if he stays lying down. “So, what else is there to do here?” he asks, crossing the room to the balcony doors, where the Taj is visible above the treetops some ways away.

“What, you didn’t research the place thoroughly?” she shoots back, laughing at the unamused look he gives her over his shoulder. “I’m not sure, honestly. There are other mausoleums, but I kind of think those would feel like a let-down compared to Taj Mahal. We could just check out the city.”

He turns from the view to actually look at her, the expression on his face turning from unamused to horrified. “It’s, like, a hundred and ten degrees out there,” he says, slowly, as if talking to a small child. “It’s worse than Dubai, I don’t know if it’s the humidity or what. I vote for staying in the hotel for the rest of the day, then exploring the city on our way to Taj Mahal in the morning, before the temperature’s risen too much.”

It actually does sound like a good idea even though she’s pretty sure it won’t be cool first thing in the morning either. It should at least be slightly better than it is now.

“In that case, I’m definitely taking a shower,” Clarke decides, getting up off the bed to rummage through her bag for clean clothes.

“Mind if I join you?”

She raises an eyebrow at his question. “I thought you were exhausted. Are you sure you’re… up for it?”

He rolls his eyes at her blatant innuendo. “I’m not allowed to go to sleep, so what else am I going to do? And trust me – I can _get_ up for it.”

And, well, she knows that…

“Well, when you put it that way…”

Their bathroom is seriously insane – they have a stand-alone, claw foot tub and a huge, round shower enclosure in glass in the middle of the room.

“Seriously, this thing has, like, a gold plated domed ceiling,” Bellamy says, voice full of awe, when he steps into the shower.

“Are you going to admire the décor or join me?” Clarke asks, turning on the water.

He tears his eyes away from the ceiling and gives her a smirk. “Join you, obviously, but come on.”

And, well, it’s not like he’s _wrong_ – this is some next level luxury.

She manages to distract him, though, and by the time they finally leave the bathroom, over an hour later, the glass walls are all steamed up and she’s sure they must have used up most of the hot water.

-100-

As Clarke suspected, the temperature the next morning isn’t anywhere near cool – it’s already in the high seventies when they leave the hotel a little after eight and climbs steadily on their walk through Agra.

There’s people everywhere, even this early on a Sunday morning. They pass some sort of market, which a lot of people seem to be going to, several temples, and hundreds of little shops selling everything from food to clothes and furniture. The Taj Mahal is their guiding star, always at the horizon.

They reach the West Gate and the ticket office just before nine, quickly pay for their tickets and enter the park.

“I thought the mausoleum was surrounded by water?” Bellamy says, looking around at the manicured lawns and buildings around the pathway they’re on. The mausoleum itself is just visible above a wall to their left.

“I think a lot of the photos online are taken from the other side, across the river,” she tells him. “But there’s also a fountain in front of it on this side, so maybe that’s what you’re thinking about.”

There are other tourists around – a large Asian group led by a woman waving a blue paper umbrella around to catch her charges’ attention, a couple of smaller organized groups, and others in pairs or small groups who seem to be on their own, like they are. They follow one of the smaller groups, with an English speaking guide, through the Great Gate and are greeted by the famous view of the long, narrow pool leading up to the impressive white building reflecting in the water.

It’s obviously a popular photo spot and they hang around for a little while, until they get a few good shots themselves, including a selfie to satisfy Raven, before heading along the pool towards the Taj itself.

It’s even more impressive up close, all the little intricate details creating a beautiful whole. They explore the inside of the mausoleum and the area around it before continuing to the museum on the grounds and learning more about the history of the place.

Still, it’s only a little after noon when they leave the museum.

“Anything else you want to check out before we leave?” Clarke asks, looking around. It’s gotten a little busier while they were in the museum, tourists strolling around the area taking in the different sights.

“Maybe one last lap around the area?” Bellamy suggests. “I think we’ve seen everything, but we’re not in any hurry, right?”

“Nope, nothing else planned today,” she confirms.

They set off around the gardens, this time taking one of the paved paths on the side of the great lawn in front of the mausoleum instead of the one along the fountain in the middle. They pause by one corner of the building, leaning against the railing for a moment and draining one of the water bottles they brought.

“I bet this place is amazing at sunrise and sunset,” he mumbles, turning his gaze across the river.

“We could come back tonight,” she suggests. “We can ask at the gate, maybe we can add a night visit to the ticket or something. Or just buy new tickets, it’s not like they’re that expensive.”

“Well, well, what are the odds of meeting fellow Americans at a place like this?” comes a voice from behind them and they both turn to find a portly man wearing cowboy boots and a huge Stetson hat – which, seriously, it’s like a hundred degrees, he should be practically melting but seems completely unaffected by the heat. He presses a hand against his chest and inclines his head a little at them. “I am awfully sorry, I promise I was not eavesdropping on purpose, but I heard y’all talking about watching the sunset and wanted to offer a recommendation.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchange an amused look and she shrugs. It can’t hurt.

“And what would you recommend?” he asks the stranger.

“Where are my manners?” he exclaims. “My name is James Williams, I’m on a second honey moon with my wife, Cynthia, she’s around here somewhere.”

Clarke can’t help but smile at his obvious enthusiasm. “I’m Clarke, this is my boyfriend Bellamy. We’re actually leaving tomorrow, so we don’t really have a lot of time left to explore the area, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, no, this won’t take any time at all,” he assures them. “I only wanted to let you know that there’s a park across the river which offers wonderful views of the mausoleum at sunset. Cynthia and I were there last night, it was breathtaking, let me tell you.”

“Oh, Jimmy, are you bothering these nice people?” a woman, the polar opposite of James – tall and thin, with the largest hair Clarke has seen since the early nineties – asks, giving him a stern look before turning to Clarke with a smile. “I do apologize for him, I cannot bring him anywhere!”

This time, she can’t hold back a laugh.

“It’s fine, ma’am,” Bellamy assures her. “He’s not bothering us at all.”

“Ooh, Americans!” she exclaims, seemingly delighted. “Lovely to meet you both, I hope you’re enjoying your vacation.”

“Very much, thank you,” Clarke tells her.

“See, darling, I was just telling them about the lovely park we went to last night, to see the sunset over the Taj Mahal,” James pipes in.

“Oh, that was lovely,” Cynthia confirms. “If you don’t have any plans tonight you should really head on over there. It’s just across the river, you can see it from here. The park itself isn’t much to write home about, but the view across the river is just wonderful.”

“Well, we don’t have any plans tonight,” Clarke says. “So we’ll definitely look into that.”

“It had a name, didn’t it honey?” Cynthia says, brows furrowing. “I can’t for the life of me remember it now… but ask at your hotel, they should be able to tell you.”

“We will, thanks,” Bellamy says.

“Where are you staying?” James asks.

“The Oberoi.”

Cynthia lets out a squeal that might attract dogs. “Oh, that’s where we are too! We’re just done here and about to head back, do you want to join us? Or maybe you just got here?”

Again, Clarke and Bellamy exchange a look. It would be easy to say that they did just get here, but James and Cynthia are really just excited. It wouldn’t be a hardship to walk back to the hotel with them.

This time, it’s Bellamy who shrugs, so Clarke turns to the eagerly waiting couple. “We were just about done too, so we’d love to head back with you.”

Which is how they end up spending the afternoon with the slightly over-excited but very friendly Texan couple, only escaping when they take a cab to the park across the river from the Taj Mahal.

“They were right,” Bellamy notes when they’re leaning against a partially destroyed brick wall, the sun sinking slowly towards the horizon in front of them. They’ve been lucky, the day has been mostly clear, and now, at twilight, the mausoleum is clear across the river, the setting sun painting both the building and the water in front of it in shades of gold and pink.

“They were,” Clarke agrees, leaning her head against his shoulder. His arm comes around her waist and he pulls her closer. “Good end to our Indian adventure?”

“The best.”

They stay until the sun has disappeared completely, using the flashlight on Clarke’s phone to pick their way back through the park to where their cab is waiting.

The next day is another grueling travel day, their flight leaving the airport in Agra at two in the afternoon and arriving in Beijing at half past eleven the day after, with tiring stopovers at three different forgettable Indian airports of various sizes.

Their hotel is in the very heart of Beijing, a short walk from the Forbidden City – which they catch a glimpse of from the cab – and Tiananmen Square. Their room, though, is facing a courtyard that the building is apparently surrounding, and they have a small terrace with a table, two chairs and a bunch of greenery. Clarke doubts they’ll use it much, but it’s kind of nice, a bit of an oasis in the middle of the bustling city. The room also has a bathroom with see-through glass walls, which will be… interesting.

Bellamy drops their bags and then slumps down on the bed while she goes to open the door to the terrace. Compared to Agra, it’s practically freezing, though she’s pretty sure it must be around seventy-five degrees even if it is cloudy. She leaves the door open, to let in some air, and joins him on the bed, rolling onto her side.

“I don’t know if it’s the… not jetlag, what’s the time difference, like an hour and a half?” he says, voice tired.

“Two and a half,” Clarke corrects, sliding her fingers into his hair and scratching his scalp a little. He lets out a pleased hum. “So no, not jetlag.”

“Travel tiredness, then,” he amends. “Anyway, I don’t know if it’s that or if I’m actually getting used to all the traveling and stuff, but we just drove through _Beijing_ , which is… it should be a huge deal and I’m just, like… cool.”

She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “Getting jaded, huh?”

He lets out a long breath. “I don’t know, I hope not. I mean, I know, on a logical level or whatever, that this is totally awesome, I just can’t muster any excitement.”

“I think you’re probably just tired, I bet you’ll feel better in the morning. I’m pretty meh at the moment too, and sure, I’ve been here twice before, but it’s still totally cool.”

“OK, good, so hopefully I’ll be able to appreciate it in the morning. So what’s the plan today? What time is it anyway? Can we go to bed soon?”

She laughs again and he opens his eyes to glare a little at her. “It’s only half past one, I’m afraid, so we should probably try to stay awake.”

His eyes narrow and then she’s suddenly on her back, Bellamy pressing her into the mattress, mouth an inch from hers.

“You better do something to keep me awake then.”

And, well, she does her best.

-100-

Clarke is proven right the next morning. They grab breakfast at the hotel before making their way to the Forbidden City by way of Tiananmen Square. They have tickets that let them skip the regular line, but there’s a small line to that entrance as well, so they get a chance to really check out the Meridian Gate.

Bellamy’s quiet, so after a moment, she turns to him, finding his eyes darting over the building in front of them, mouth slightly open.

“Awe set in yet?” she asks amusedly.

He snaps his mouth shut and tears his eyes away. “Yup, definitely. This is…”

“Yeah,” she agrees, grabbing his hand to pull him along as the people in front of them move closer to the entrance.

She’s been to the Forbidden City before, and knows there’s a lot to see, so she did actually write down an itinerary for them, just so they won’t miss anything.

“Right,” she starts once they’re inside the actual palace complex, pulling the small notebook where she has all her notes for different cities and sights from her bag.

Bellamy raises his eyebrows. “You seriously have a _list_?”

“Shut up!” She elbows him in the ribs. “This place is huge, OK? If you don’t organize the visit somehow, you’re going to miss things. Trust me, I know from experience.”

He just chuckles. “Fine. Lead the way, Miss Tour Guide.”

So she does. They check out the different squares and gates, explore the numerous palaces, admire the beautiful Nine Dragons Screen and the extravagant caisson ceiling in the Hall of Union, and stroll around the Imperial Garden.

By the time they reach the exit at the Gate of Divine Might, it’s almost one in the afternoon.

“OK, you might have been right,” Bellamy admits when they’ve crossed the moat separating the Forbidden City from the rest of Beijing. “We definitely would have missed a bunch of stuff if you didn’t have that list.”

“Told you,” Clarke replies with a smirk. “Now, I want to check out the view from up there…” She points ahead of them, to the pavilion in Jingshan Park. “But I think we should maybe grab some lunch first.”

“Good plan.”

They find a western style coffee shop nearby and after some delicious sandwiches, they’re ready for the climb.

The viewing spot is packed, but it’s easy to see why – the Forbidden City is stretched out beneath them, its characteristic red roof tops glistening even though the day’s overcast.

“Wow,” Bellamy breathes out when they turn to take it all in.

“I know.”

They take the long – extremely long, a huge detour, really – way back to their hotel, rounding the entire perimeter of the Forbidden City to check out the four corner towers. It takes over an hour, but they don’t have anything else planned today, so it’s not like they’re in a hurry.

“Besides,” Clarke notes when they’re back in their room, slumping down in an armchair and toeing her shoes off. “We’ll basically be walking for, like, six or seven hours tomorrow, so this is good practice.”

“Or we should have gotten some rest before going on a twelve mile hike,” Bellamy retorts, pulling his shirt off and giving her a nice view of his back. “Too late now but, you know, for future reference.”

“We don’t really have anything planned on Friday,” she says. “I mean, I had a couple of ideas, but we can just chill here, if you want.”

It’s quiet for a moment, but then he lets out a sigh that some might interpret as resigned, but she knows better. “I mean, we don’t have that much time here. As long as I don’t have to walk around the whole day, we can do whatever it is you were thinking on Friday.”

She bites her lip to keep from smiling. She knew he’d say that.

“I promise you’ll have fun,” she assures him. “And then we’re going to the national museum on Saturday.”

He seems to perk up at that. “Oh, yeah, that’s going to be awesome.”

“But a bit more walking.”

“I can put up with walking for history stuff.” He pauses and gives her a meaningful look. “I’m taking a shower before we grab dinner. You joining me?”

She pretends to consider for a moment. It’s only a little after five, they have plenty of time before they need to head out to find somewhere to eat, and there are a lot of restaurants close by. “I guess.”

-100-

Thursday’s an early start, but any fatigue they’re feeling basically evaporates as soon as they start their hike.

Clarke chose a section of the Great Wall with both unrestored and restored parts, and they start off at Gubeikou, where there’s honestly not much wall to actually see at the moment – there’s a dirt path with some stone details here and there, surrounded by green, rolling hills in all direction, but some ways away, they can see a part of the wall that actually looks like the Great Wall, with the distinctive parapets.

Their tour guide and the rest of their group, only six people, are a little further ahead, but Bellamy’s stopped, so she does too.

“Something wrong?” she asks, pulling his attention from the view.

“Just taking it all in,” he tells her with a smile. “It’s a little… overwhelming.”

“I know what you mean.”

“So this is number four of the new wonders of the world, right?” he continues, interlacing their fingers and setting off after the rest of the group.

Clarke frowns. “Is it? I have to admit, I’m not on top of that.”

If someone put her on the spot, she would probably have put the wall on the list. Probably the Colosseum, maybe the Parthenon, Stonehenge… the Eiffel Tower?

“Yeah, we’ve done the Colosseum, Petra, Taj Mahal and now the Great Wall,” he explains. “And I think we’ll tick off the last three as well.”

“Which are the ones we have left?”

“Machu Picchu and Chichén Itzá and… that huge sculpture in Rio de Janeiro, Christ… something.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re doing Machu Picchu and Chichén Itzá, we already have tours booked for those, and we have two full days in Rio, so I think we can fit that one in too.”

“Cool, that would be really awesome. And we already did the only remaining of the old wonders too.” He smiles down at her. “Come on, let’s catch up with the others.”

The first part of the wall is the hardest, in a way – some of it hasn’t been restored at all and it’s crumbling in places, so they really have to watch where they put their feet. On the other hand, that means they’re not moving particularly fast. Once they get to the part of the wall that has been restored, the one that most people probably think about when someone says ‘Great Wall of China’, it’s an easier walk but they pick up the pace, so by the time they stop for lunch, their entire little group is pretty tired.

“You know…” Bellamy starts once they’ve both dug into their food. “I thought some of the best Chinese food was in New York, but this is just… on a whole other level.”

“Definitely,” Clarke agrees, taking a sip of her water. “There’s really no comparison.”

Soon enough, they’re back on their feet, following their guide along the last part of the wall they’re hiking.

It’s a long, tiring day, no doubt about it, and they basically just collapse in bed when they get back to the hotel, but it’s still one of the most rewarding days on the trip so far, at least judging by the smile that just won’t leave Bellamy’s face.

“Good day?” she ask, rolling into him and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Fantastic,” he replies, pulling her closer. “I really did think that maybe my mind was getting full up with all these amazing sights and historical stuff but, yeah, no. Not at all. It’s still fucking amazing.”

“That’s good, since we still have a bunch of things left to see,” she notes, a little amused. “I’d hate for you to be all indifferent when I went to all this trouble and spent all this money on this amazing trip…”

He cuts her off by rolling them over and pushing her into the mattress. “Yeah, yeah.”

The look in his eyes is amused for a moment, but then his gaze drops to her mouth and Clarke can pinpoint the exact moment when his thoughts are diverted. “Nope,” she tells him, pushing against his chest. “No funny business until after dinner, I’m starving.”

He laughs but doesn’t argue, just gets out of bed before pulling her up as well. “As long as funny business isn’t off the table completely.”

She stands on her tip toes to give him a quick kiss. “Never.”

-100-

They’re not in any hurry on Friday, so they have a lazy morning in bed, ordering room service instead of going down to the hotel’s breakfast buffet. Clarke wouldn’t really mind just lounging about all day, but she also wants to show Bellamy the things she has planned, so when he disappears into the bathroom a little after noon, she resolutely pulls on her sleep shirt that was discarded on the floor at some point earlier and sits up in bed, determined to not let him distract her again.

He beats her to it, though.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything,” he starts, coming back into the bedroom. “But I seem to remember you wanting to do something today. Maybe we should head out before we get… sidetracked again?”

She can’t help the smile on her face. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

So they get dressed and head down to the hotel reception, where the receptionist calls a cab for them and, on Clarke’s request, writes down the address they’re going to.

“So what’s at this place?” Bellamy asks when they’ve gotten into the cab.

She glances at him. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t push, and they spend the drive commenting on interesting things they spot through the window.

The driver stops in front of a nondescript building which most people probably wouldn’t look twice at when in search of a tourist attraction.

“You sure this is the right place?” Bellamy asks before getting out of the cab, as if he doesn’t want to let it go in case they’re in the wrong place.

“Yup, this is it,” she assures him. “I know it doesn’t look very tourist-y, but trust me – I’ve been here before.”

That seems to convince him and he gets out of the car, which takes off again. “In that case, lead the way.”

So she takes his hand and pulls him along into the building and to the elevator, hitting the button for the sixth floor.

“You know, the only reason I’m not actually worried you’re taking me to some abandoned office space to kill me is that it would just be _such_ a long game,” he notes when the elevator door opens. “I mean, at this point, you’ve pretty much earned it.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” she replies with a laugh. “Come on.”

She stops outside the café and looks up at him expectantly.

“OK, yeah, this is cool,” he admits, scrutinizing the unmistakable sign on the window – Central Perk. “Is it an actual replica of the coffee shop on the show?”

“Why are you asking me, just come check it out!”

She holds the door open and he leads the way inside, head turning from side to side to check out everything – the chalk-board menu on the characteristic brick wall, the furniture that’s practically taken straight from the show, including the orange couch, the guitar by the window, which looks like it’s waiting for Phoebe to strike the first chords of ‘Smelly Cat’.

“OK, yeah, this is seriously awesome,” he admits. “What’s that through there?” He nods at an open door.

“That wasn’t actually there last time I was here,” Clarke replies. “But I read about it – apparently, they’ve created a replica of Chandler and Joey’s kitchen-slash-living-room. Want to check it out before we grab a coffee?”

“Absolutely.”

There’s not too many people around, a lot less than the last time Clarke was here, so they can take silly photos with the foosball table and on the orange couch and all that before ordering some coffee and a slice of cheesecake each.

It’s not the best coffee she’s ever had, but the environment definitely makes it top ten.

“So, where to next?” Bellamy asks after finishing the last of his coffee. “Is there some ‘Cheers’ inspired bar around? A recreation of, I don’t know… the Peach Pit from ‘Beverly Hills’ or something?”

She smiles but shakes her head. “Not that I came across when I was looking for things to do, anyway. I actually had something a bit more your style planned for the rest of the day.”

“Oh yeah?”

She considers telling him he’ll just have to wait and see again. It was fun with the coffee shop – seeing his reaction was as much of an experience for her as the actual visit – but maybe it’s played its part now.

“We’re going to the old summer palace,” she reveals. The smile that immediately spreads on his face tells her it was the right decision.

“Really? I read a little about it and it seems really cool.”

Clarke nudges him with her foot. “Why didn’t you say you wanted to check it out?

He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like it was too difficult getting tickets on site, so I figured I’d suggest it if we had some time to spare.”

“Good thing great minds think alike, then.”

She did read up on the place before they arrived, but in the end, it’s Bellamy guiding her around the vast former palace complex, explaining what the different buildings used to be. After an hour or so, they grab some lunch at a restaurant near the park, before returning and exploring until the sun starts to set.

Their last day in Beijing and China, they spend at the national museum – a large building with six floors, all full of fascinating objects from the many different Chinese dynasties, everything from jade and stone artefacts to large sculptures in different materials.

Since they have a morning flight to Tokyo tomorrow, they grab an early dinner on the way back to the hotel and then spend a couple of hours laughing at dubbed American sitcoms before bed.

A pretty good last night in China, all things considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, “Friends” again… I wasn’t planning this or anything (honestly!) but I was googling “different things to do in Beijing” or something and it was right there and I just figured, of course they’d go there, so here we are! It seems like a really cool place


	41. Underneath Electric Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get back to my Wednesday/Saturday posting schedule, we’ll see how that goes… though I do have two weeks vacation coming up, so I’m hoping to at least keep it up through that!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Rhythm of the Night” by Debarge

Bellamy’s unusually quiet as they enjoy a final breakfast at their Beijing hotel, check out and grab a cab to the airport.

Clarke gives him until they’ve settled into their seats and the plane has reached cruising altitude before she calls him out on it.

“OK, what’s wrong?” He looks up at her question, eyebrows furrowing, and she just knows that he’s going to try to brush it off. “And before you answer, keep in mind that we’re stuck on this flight for the next three hours. There’s no getting away from me.”

He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head. “You say that like I’d want to get away from you.”

She doesn’t respond to that, just raises her eyebrows expectantly.

He sighs and turns to look out the window, but she’s pretty sure he’s just trying to collect his thoughts, figure out how to phrase whatever’s on his mind, not actually ignoring her, so she gives him a moment.

“I guess I just…” he starts after a few minutes, turning back to face her with a sigh. “Ever since you said we were halfway through the trip, it’s felt a little like a count down.”

The words ‘count down’ of course pulls her attention to his forehead – 90 today. Bellamy notices, obviously, and reaches out to take her hand. “I know I’m late to the party, that you’ve been counting down basically since we met. And I’m not saying it just got real or anything, just… I don’t know.”

“No, I get it,” she assures him, releasing his hand so she can push the armrest between them up and move closer instead. His arm goes around her and she tucks herself against his side, warmth seeping through her thin t-shirt, a comforting presence. “Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to cheer you up?”

He huffs another laugh and kisses her temple. “I don’t think a three hour flight is the best place for _that_ conversation, so cheer up?”

Clarke wonders if it might be the first step to the breakdown he’s convinced is coming. Maybe she should push, get him to let it all out, but like he said – a plane’s not really the place for that.

“OK, well, in that case – do you know how many awesome things we still have left on this trip?”

His thumb starts tracing patterns on her bare arm and he leans his head against the top of hers. “Your itinerary was huge and freakishly detailed, so not really. Tell me.”

So she talks about all the things she’s looking forward to – showing him Manila, relaxing on Bora Bora, all the _Lord of the Rings_ stuff they have planned in New Zealand, exploring her second favorite US city, San Francisco, with him, their road trip – and the things she knows he’s excited about – Angkor Wat, seeing his dad’s home town, Machu Picchu, the Panama canal, Chichén Itzá. She tells him about all the off-the-beaten-track places she wants to take him to in the cities she’s visited before, and all the cool stuff she’s found in the places she’s never been and wants to experience for the first time with him. She talks and talks, until the flight attendant serves them their snack, and when she reluctantly sits up straight in her seat to be able to eat, Bellamy’s hand wraps around her wrist and he leans closer. “Thank you,” he whispers in her ear, and she offers him a smile.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Well, I can think of a few other things…” he teases, breaking the slightly heavy moment.

Clarke laughs. “Yeah, OK, when you put it like that. But this is not the flight for _that_ kind of fun.”

He makes a show of looking around the cabin, where the other passengers are all digging into their snack, conversation in various languages here and there, flight attendants moving up and down the aisle. “I guess not,” he finally agrees.

She can’t help the way her eyes narrow when he turns his attention back to her. “Why are you suddenly all… casual about it? Last time we talked about it you were a weak maybe.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I’ve had time to think about it, and what’s the worst that can happen? Even if someone were to actually catch us, it’s not like we’ll ever see them again, so who cares, right?”

It’s pretty much the argument she was planning to use if he was still hesitating on the flight from Manila, but it’s still odd to hear it from him.

“Who are you and what did you do to my boyfriend?” she asks suspiciously, and he laughs.

“Maybe I just realized that life’s short.”

Which of course brings them – or at least her, he just turns his attention to his food, not seeming affected the way he was earlier – back to the whole count down thing. She bites her lip, determined to not bring him down with her, and follows his example, but she can’t bring herself to eat, just pokes at the food until the flight attendant comes around to collect the trash.

-100-

By now, the whole hotel check in process has become more or less routine, and their Tokyo hotel is more of the same. The receptionist is overly perky, doesn’t hide her flirting with Bellamy at all, and Clarke has to clear her throat before she understands that she’s the one with the credit card they need to register in case they decide to raid the mini fridge. Which she wasn’t planning on doing anyway, but definitely won’t do now.

“She was just being friendly,” he says as they shoot up in the elevator taking them to the twenty-ninth floor. Clarke doesn’t even dignify that with an answer, just gives him an incredulous look. “OK, fine, she was flirting. But it’s not like I care, you know that.”

It makes her deflate, because she does know that, of course. “I do. Sorry,” she apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it.” He gives her a scrutinizing look. “Are you OK? You’ve been a little off since we landed… did cheering me up actually bring you down? That really wasn’t how I wanted that to go.”

She doesn’t want to get into that conversation again, it won’t do either of them any good, so she forces a smile onto her face. “No, I’m fine, just one of those days when stuff bugs you, you know?”

He doesn’t look like he completely buys it. “I do know. You sure?”

To Clarke’s relief, the elevator comes to a stop at that moment and the doors ding open. “I’m sure. Come on, I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see the toilet in this place!”

And he doesn’t disappoint, oohing and aahing over the buttons on the toilet, maybe a bit more than he would have, and she knows he’s trying to get her out of her funk. Which actually helps, strangely enough, and by the time they leave the hotel an hour later, she’s really looking forward to exploring Shinjuku.

They stroll around among the skyscrapers for a while, grabbing sushi for lunch and just generally enjoying the atmosphere. They eventually end up in Shinjuku Gyoen park, following the winding paths and bridges. Some of the distinctive cherry trees are still blooming, the ground beneath them covered in a soft layer of pink and white flowers, and it’s a nice place, a quiet oasis in the middle of the bustling city.

“This reminds me of Central Park, in a way,” Bellamy notes when they’ve stopped on one of the narrow bridges to admire the view. “I mean, the trees and stuff are different, but it has a similar feel – the green space in the middle of the city, buildings towering over it…”

“Yeah, I see your point,” she agrees, glancing up at him. “Getting homesick?”

“Not really. You?”

She shrugs. “Not homesick per se, though I do miss Bas. Which is part of the reason we’re going to a cat café tomorrow.”

He lets out a surprised laugh. “We are?”

“Come on, you can’t go to Tokyo and _not_ go to a cat café. It’s, like, their thing.”

“You do know there are cat cafés in New York now, right?” he asks amusedly.

“Of course, there’s one a fifteen minute walk from my place. But this is where it started, so it’s different. And I need a cat fix, I haven’t seen my baby for three months.” They’ve Skyped Harper and Monty a couple of times, hoping to be able to say hi to Bastet, but so far she’s been hiding somewhere all times but one, and the only time they did get to see her, she seemed to be spooked by Clarke’s voice coming from Harper’s iPad and took off like a flash.

That makes Bellamy turn serious and he squeezes her hand. “I know.”

“Come on,” she says decisively. “I’m in the mood for ice cream.”

They make their way back towards their hotel slowly, stopping for ice cream at a cute little shop along the way.

“You know…” Bellamy starts when they’re in bed later that night. “Cat cafés are not the only animal cafés in Tokyo.”

“No?” She leans over, peering at the screen of his phone. “What else is there?”

“Owls… snakes, no thanks… there’s a penguin bar, that seems kind of cool.”

“No, no, this one!” Clarke exclaims, pointing at the screen. “Hedgehogs.”

His eyes widen. “Hedgehogs, seriously?”

“Only in Tokyo.”

“OK, so we have the cat place tomorrow. How about hedgehogs on Tuesday and penguins on Wednesday?”

She grabs her phone to check the itinerary. “Yeah, that should work.” None of their days in Tokyo are exactly packed, there’s room for some cute animals.

In the end, the penguin bar is fully booked, but they do get a half-hour slot at the hedgehog café.

-100-

Clarke wakes up early the next morning and is too excited to go back to sleep, so she checks her social media, liking a photo that Raven’s uploaded of her and Zeke in a pretty much empty movie theatre – which reminds her that the Tribeca Film Festival has started – and posting a nice picture she snapped of herself and Bellamy with a cherry tree in bloom as a background yesterday.

She’s moved on to checking the news by the time Bellamy wakes up and squints at her. “Why are you already awake?” he asks, voice heavy with sleep.

It’s true that she usually sleeps later than him, but still, he doesn’t have to sound so surprised.

“Woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” she says with a shrug, putting her phone away. It’s just a little after seven thirty, so they’re not in a hurry or anything. She’s checked the metro and the trip shouldn’t take more than half an hour if they’re really unlucky with their timing, so with the short walk to and from the subway, they don’t have to leave the hotel for another hour and a half or so. She still sort of wants to get going, though.

“You’re that excited about the cat café, huh?” he says, rolling away from her to check his own phone on the bedside table.

“No.” She pauses. “OK, yeah, but we’re doing something else first that I’m more excited about.”

“Really? What?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise.” She can tell from the look on his face that he’s about to try to convince her to tell him so she continues. “And don’t even try – you’ll know in two hours.”

He heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Breakfast?”

Since he’s the one to suggest it, Clarke doesn’t even bother suggesting that they can stay in bed for a while. They can have a slow breakfast.

And she tries to linger, she really does, but in the end, they still reach their destination a few minutes early.

“We’re going go-karting?” Bellamy asks, sounding kind of excited but also a little amused.

“Sort of,” she replies, pulling the door open.

“What do you mean ‘sort of’? It says right on the door, GO KART.”

There’s a young man behind a desk that plasters on a smile when he spots them and she hands over all the papers before turning back to Bellamy. “You’ll see in a bit. Give me your driver’s license.”

He hands it over with a small frown and she gives it to the guy behind the desk as well. He checks everything for a few minutes before handing them back and asking them to follow him in English with a heavy Japanese accent.

Their actual guide, an American woman in her early twenties, is waiting for them in a room full of costumes.

“Hey guys, I’m Fox, your guide. Welcome! Just go ahead and pick out your outfits and we can get going.”

“We’re going go-karting _in costume_?” Bellamy asks when Clarke starts looking around them at the costumes on offer.

Shay gives Clarke an amused look. “Surprise, huh?”

“That obvious?”

They get their outfits picked out – Yoshi for Bellamy, Princess Peach, of course, for Clarke – and get a quick run-through of the karts they’ll be driving before they continue to the garage with all the karts and Fox hits a button to open the door.

Bellamy freezes before getting into the kart he’s been allotted, looking out through the door that’s slowly opening, at the regular street outside. “We’re not driving on a course?”

“Nope,” Fox tells him from her kart. “This is go-karting in the real world.”

“Come one,” Clarke says, getting into her own kart. “It’ll be fun.”

As it turns out, ‘fun’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. Fox takes them around the city, offering insights through the headsets they’re wearing on the places they pass – the Rainbow Bridge, the Statue of Liberty replica, Tokyo Tower – and it feels more like twenty minutes than two hours when they’re back at the garage.

“So?” Clarke asks as they head towards the subway again. “Did you have fun?”

She’s nervous for a moment, but then Bellamy looks down at her, a huge smile on his face. “That was awesome!”

“See? I told you!”

They get off the train at Shibuya and stand slack-jawed for a long moment watching the crowds at the huge intersection a couple of blocks away. It’s almost one, so tourists mingle with locals on their way to or from lunch, and it’s just… overwhelming, really.

They cross the street on the third green light and explore the area a little, grabbing some lunch, before continuing to the cat café for the half-hour visit Clarke booked for four o’clock.

It’s not as good as it would be to see Bastet, of course – she’s Clarke’s baby – but it’s still like balm for her soul to have the different cats weaving between their legs, butting up against their hands, meowing and purring up a storm.

“OK, this was a really good idea,” Bellamy says, scratching a little white, fluffy cat that’s climbed into his lap and curled into a ball. “I can totally see why these places are getting more popular.”

She hums in agreement, dangling the cord of her sweatshirt in front of another cat, this one white and grey with ears that sort of turn up at the ends. It pounces on the cord, almost falling off her lap, but she grabs it at the last moment and laughs when it bats its paw at her.

They end up paying for another half hour, since the cat in Bellamy’s lap falls asleep. It’s not like they can just wake it up, that would be cruel.

“So did this help with missing Bastet?” Bellamy asks when they’re on their way back to their hotel.

Clarke sighs. “Not really. I mean, they were cute and all, but I kind of miss her even more now.”

“Want to give Skyping another go?”

So they do, managing to get Bas to actually stay still for a few minutes – she even meows at the iPad, head darting back and forth as if trying to figure out where the rest of Clarke is.

The cat takes off when Monty drops something off screen, but it still makes Clarke feel a lot better.

They get their cultural fill on Tuesday, wandering around the Asakusa area in the rain all day, checking out the Senso-ji temple and other religious buildings, perusing the goods on offer along the shopping street Nakamise Dori, before crossing the river to get a closer look at the Tokyo Skytree.

They wrap up the afternoon at the hedgehog café, which is cool – the little prickly animals aren’t as cuddly as the cats from yesterday, for obvious reasons, and they have to wear gloves to touch them, but they’re still adorable.

Their final day in Tokyo starts with an almost hour long train ride to the western parts of the city and the Ghibli Museum. The last time Clarke was in Tokyo was during the summer of 2001, when the museum was being built, and she’s wanted to visit it ever since.

The museum’s like nothing either of them has ever experience before. It’s more a maze than anything else, spiral staircases, hallways, bridged passageways leading every which way, and rooms branching off here and there, and there doesn’t seem to be any set way to explore the place at all, so they just pick a direction and start walking.

It’s a kind of sensory overload, exploring the museum. There are painted ceilings, stain glass windows, little details all over the place and it turns into almost a competition, finding all the movie references. Neither of them have seen all the movies, but between them, they pick out a lot of them.

They get photos with a large Totoro holding an umbrella – Bellamy sounds almost gleeful when he tells her that _My Neighbor Totoro_ was Octavia’s favorite movie when she was eight and she’s going to be so jealous of the picture – and watch an original short film in the theatre. On the second floor, there’s a room with an actual replica of the catbus from Totoro, which is totally awesome even if only kids are allowed to play on it. They still get photos, of course, before going out onto the terrace and climbing to the roof, where there’s a garden with a fifteen foot tall Robot Soldier from _Laputa Castle in the Sky_.

They stop at the shop – where Bellamy buys Octavia a plushy Totoro – before leaving the museum to explore the surrounding park for a while.

“Do we have any plans tonight?” Bellamy asks on the train back into the city.

“Nope,” Clarke replies. “Is there something you want to do?”

He shrugs. “Want might be too strong a word. But we’re in Japan, right, where karaoke is, like, the national pastime or something.”

She just stares at him for a moment. “ _You_ want to do karaoke?”

“Again, I don’t _want_ to, but it feels like something you’re supposed to do here. When in Rome, you know…”

“We don’t have to do something just because you’re supposed to,” she tells him, fond.

He rolls his eyes. “I know, don’t worry. But I thought it might be fun, watching a bunch of Japanese people trying to sing… I don’t know, Taylor Swift or something.”

“That would be fun,” she agrees. “The thing is, though, karaoke doesn’t really work the same way here as it does in the US.”

Bellamy frowns down at her. “What do you mean? I’ve seen YouTube clips of Japanese karaoke, they still sing.”

“They do, yeah, but most karaoke places aren’t open venues, like we have, with a stage and an audience, they’re usually divided into smaller rooms where you can sing more privately.”

“Oh. So it would just be you and me?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” She pauses. “Unless we can find other people to sing with, but I’m honestly not sure either of us are social enough to just go up to complete strangers and ask to sing with them. Plus, they’d probably expect us to sing too, and I’m thinking you’re not really too keen on that.”

He actually shudders. “Not really, no. OK, I guess we can skip the karaoke thing.”

She laughs. “Good decision.”

Instead, they agree to try out one of the restaurants at the hotel, and end up eating the most delicious teppanyaki Clarke’s ever had.

-100-

Another day, another plane ride.

“You know,” Bellamy starts when they’re in the cab to their hotel in downtown Hong Kong. “It’s a good thing most of these flights aren’t too long, and the time difference isn’t too bad. Can you imagine trying to actually enjoy two days in an amazing city like this while jetlagged?”

“It’s almost like I actually planned it like that,” Clarke replies with a smirk. “At first, I figured we could just jet back and forth – start in Europe, maybe Paris and Rome, take a brief detour to Australia, then Brazil and Peru, back to Europe for London, India, American road trip, another Asian stop for Beijing…”

“OK, fine, I get your point,” he cuts her off, pinching her thigh. “Good planning, then.”

“Thank you, I tried.”

Their room isn’t very big, but the hotel is right by the harbor on Hong Kong Island, so they have a beautiful view of the water and Kowloon beyond it.

It’s only early afternoon, so they leave the hotel again and, after a couple of wrong turns, find their way to the promenade along the water. It’s pretty hot, probably high seventies or low eighties, and the humidity is bordering on uncomfortable, but there’s a pleasant breeze here, and it’s not like they’re in any hurry, so they just stroll along at a leisurely pace.

There are a few boats out in the harbor, a couple of the sleek looking ferries that transport people from Hong Kong Island to the mainland and, in the distance, a more traditional junk boat.

“There’s an observation wheel here too?” Bellamy asks when the wheel in question appears in front of them.

“Really?” Clarke teases, earning an elbow in the side that she dances away from. “Want to check it out?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “Maybe food first, though?”

She pulls her phone out and finds a Subway nearby – maybe they should go for something local, but sometimes you just want a quick lunch that you know you’ll like – and they’re back at the wheel in half an hour.

The ascent is slow, and once they’re at the top, they both turn in a circle, taking in the 360 degree view. On the side of the water they’re on, there are mostly tall buildings, the mountain High West peeking out here and there between the glass and steel structures. Across the water are more buildings, green hills in the background, the few clouds that are scuttling across the sky casting shadows below.

“I knew, on a logical level, that Hong Kong would be this… modern metropolis or whatever,” Bellamy says when they’re on the way back down. “But it still feels wrong, somehow, too western with all the skyscrapers.”

“I know what you mean,” Clarke agrees. “But we’re doing a Buddhist monastery tomorrow, that should give you a more local feel.”

“Awesome.”

And the temple is really cool. She’s not sure there are actually 10,000 Buddhas but there are _a lot_. They’re everywhere, in all different shapes and sizes, lining the stairs leading up to the actual temple.

“So this is going to be a walking day,” Bellamy notes when they’ve finally reached the top, leaning against the wall and pushing his hair away from his forehead.

Clarke stops to catch her breath for a moment as well and takes a drink of her water. “Yup. But I figured we’d relax at the hotel for a while, grab lunch, and then head up to the viewing point on High West. And we’re taking a cab most of the way there, it’ll just be, like, half a mile to hike or something.”

He holds his hand out for the bottle and she takes another gulp before passing it over. He drains the rest of the water and tosses the bottle in a trashcan nearby. “But still a pretty steep hike, right?”

“I don’t know,” she replies with a shrug. “I haven’t actually been there before. Most of it didn’t look too bad on Google Maps, it’s pretty well hidden, vegetation on all sides, so I don’t think you can go very fast. Part of it is stairs, which did look pretty steep, so we’ll definitely bring plenty of water and make sure to head back down before it gets dark.”

“Sounds good.”

It does end up being a pretty tiring hike, the stairs steeper than they looked in places, the path narrow, which isn’t a problem when they’re surrounded by trees and bushes, but in some places, the mountain starts slanting downwards just a few feet off the path, which means they have to be careful where they step.

But the view is definitely worth it, once they finally get to the top.

“Whoa,” Bellamy breathes, turning in a slow circle.

Hong Kong Island is spread out beneath them, the skyscrapers trailing the water on both sides, looking small from this high up. The mountains beyond Kowloon are shrouded in mist, but Lantau Island, on the other side, is bathed in sunlight.

“That’s where we’re going tomorrow?” he asks, nodding in that direction.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Clarke confirms. “You can’t actually see the bridge right now, but those high pillars must be the pylons.”

He frowns. “I thought we were taking a cable car to get there?”

“That’s not until we’re actually on the island, we’ll still need to get there from the mainland.”

“Right.”

They hang around for a while, snapping photos of the amazing view, before climbing back down to avoid getting stuck on the mountain after dark.

They do stop on Victoria’s Peak for a while, though, exploring the area a little before grabbing a coffee and settling down on the café’s patio overlooking the city below to watch the sunset. They linger for a bit after, too, watching the lights in the skyscrapers twinkle on.

-100-

“Oh, I don’t like this,” Clarke announces on Saturday morning. They’re standing in line for the cable car to take them up to the Tian Tan Buddha statue, and she just got a look at the cars, which have glass floors.

“Eiffel Tower all over again?” Bellamy notes, squeezing her around the waist.

“I know it’s safe,” she says, glancing around – they’re surrounded by people, a lot of them local but definitely plenty of other tourists, so she picks her next words carefully. “I know I’ll be fine. But it’s still… you know, there’s nothing under us.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a couple of inches of tempered glass under us,” he replies, sounding slightly amused. “And didn’t you see that they had glass floors when you made the reservation? There are cars without, you had to actually choose to pay extra to get these.”

She shrugs. “I figured it would be cool,” she says. “I hadn’t been to the Eiffel Tower with the glass floor then, so I thought I’d be fine with it.”

“I’m sure we can switch, if you really don’t want to go in these,” he says, voice turning thoughtful, already looking around for an employee to ask.

“No,” she quickly assures him. “There’s seating, it’s not like I have to stand on it. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

And it’s definitely an experience. She’s a little apprehensive at first, but as soon as their car leaves the station, she’s distracted by the view around them – the whole island opens up below and around them, the lush woods stretching in all directions, the turquoise water glittering in the distance. It’s still early and the mist hasn’t risen completely yet, so the peaks in the distance are wrapped in white, swirling clouds.

“Oh yeah, this is really cool,” Bellamy notes after a few minutes, looking down at the water below them.

Clarke ventures a glance and has to admit it’s amazing. She still prefers looking around them to straight down, though.

The huge Buddha statue at the end of the journey isn’t a letdown in any way – it’s awesome. The view’s amazing as the day has cleared up, the only cloud still lingering a fluffy thing on one of the peaks nearby, and they can see for what feels like miles. Still, on the way back down in the cable car, they both agree that in this particular case, the journey was definitely the highpoint.

They finish off the day – and their Hong Kong visit – with a junk boat ride watching ‘A Symphony of Lights’, an amazing light and sound show over the harbor where the lights of the buildings interact with special screens, laser beams and music in a way that has them both spellbound.

It ends up being a pretty late night, though, since a British couple on the same boat convince them to eat with them, and they don’t stumble into bed until well after midnight.

“Cambodia tomorrow, right?” Bellamy mumbles, one hand reaching for her blindly.

Clarke rolls into him, pulling the sheets up over both of them. “Yeah.”

“Early flight?”

“Not until the afternoon, we can sleep in, don’t worry.”

His breath is warm against her forehead when he replies, half-asleep already. “Good. Night, Princess, love you.”

“Night, love you too.”


	42. Walking Between the Raindrops with You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And my posting plans fell apart after the first day… but Sunday morning/Wednesday is OK too, right? 
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Between the Raindrops” by Lifehouse ft. Natasha Bedingfield
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Cambodia is the first place in a while that Clarke actually hasn’t been to before.

“How come?” Bellamy asks when they’re relaxing in their hotel room. They didn’t arrive until after seven, so they decided to just check out the hotel itself – which is a resort with cute little cabins overlooking a pool shaped like a canal weaving through the area – and now they’re trying to decide where to eat. “I mean, I obviously overlooked Angkor Wat when I made my list – thanks for adding it, by the way – but I figured you probably would have been here at least once.”

“I don’t know,” she replies with a shrug. “Wells and I talked about doing a tour of South East Asia back when we first got together, but then the Vietnam war started, and there was the civil war here, in Cambodia, and the region was pretty unsettled for a while… plus, Angkor Wat wasn’t really a big tourist attraction until the… nineties, maybe? I guess I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

He shoots her a smile. “Good thing I gave you a reason now, then.”

“Very good,” she agrees with a smile. “So, food?”

They end up at one of the restaurants at the hotel and then call it a night, since they want to get an early start to get some of their exploration done before the temperature rises too much.

Which turns out to be wishful thinking, unfortunately. By the time they leave the hotel the next morning, it’s already hot and balmy, and while the grey clouds on the horizon do promise rain, Clarke’s pretty sure it won’t be refreshing.

“You know, I’m really starting to look forward to getting to the parts of the world where it’s winter now,” Bellamy half-grumbles when they’ve gotten out of the cab that took them to the temple area. He pushes his sweaty curls out of his face and takes a long drink from his water bottle.

“Tell me about it,” Clarke replies. “But you know it’s not going to be like winter back home, right? I think the average temperature in Sydney in late May is, like, mid-sixties or something.”

“Which will feel like a nice January day in New York after this heat,” he reasons, making her snort a laugh.

“True. OK, come on, the sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can go back to the hotel and jump in the pool or put the AC on, like, forty degrees.”

Bellamy laughs. “Good to know you have your priorities straight.”

They do sort of forget about the heat, in the way where it’s just there, in the back of their mind, as they explore the ruin city. Bellamy seems almost in awe of the place for a while, just looking around with wide eyes and mouth hanging slightly open, but soon enough, he starts talking about the site itself and the Khmer people, pointing out different interesting things on the various buildings.

It’s such a large area, and Bellamy seems to know all the little sights off the pathway, so they spend more time navigating the dense vegetation than they do on the actual paths. A few times, Clarke has to pull out her phone to check where they are and get them back on the right track, but by late afternoon, Bellamy announces that they’ve seen everything.

“Thank God,” Clarke says with a sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a really good time, this place is amazing, but I really want to get back to the hotel and out of these clothes.”

“Oh yeah?” He waggles his eyebrow suggestively and she rolls her eyes.

“Not until I’ve had a shower, at least. I’m totally gross.”

“You’ll never be gross to me.”

And, well, she can’t _not_ kiss him when he says stuff like that.

“Such a romantic.”

“I try.”

The rain that’s been threatening to fall all day finally does start just as they get out of their cab back at the hotel, and despite running all the way to their cabin, they’re both soaked, clothes clinging to their skin, by the time they finally close the door behind them.

“Wait, wait,” Clarke says breathlessly, grabbing Bellamy by the arm just inside the door before he can venture further into the room. “I don’t want to get water everywhere, let’s just take off our clothes here and we can hang them up in the bathroom.”

He looks her up and down, gaze hot, and she can feel her heart rate pick up immediately.

“Sure thing, Princess.”

And then he pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops his shorts and underwear before she’s even lifted her hands to start on her top.

She always has trouble keeping her eyes – and hands – off Bellamy, and a naked, slightly wet Bellamy is even harder.

No pun intended.

Still, she makes an effort to keep her eyes on his, raising an eyebrow. “Your boxers were wet, really?”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “I figured better safe than sorry. Don’t want to catch a cold.”

Clarke just hums in reply and finally gets her arms to cooperate so she can get rid of her tank top. She maintains eye contact as she unbuttons her shorts and lets them fall to the floor as well, stepping out of them before reaching behind her to unhook her bra.

Bellamy’s eyes are intent on hers as well, but when the bra slides down her arms, they drop for a brief moment to her breasts. Not that she can blame him – she has awesome breasts. Someone should appreciate them.

It feels almost like a chicken race, as she hooks her thumbs in her panties and pushes them down until she can let them drop to the floor as well, a challenge of who will cave first. She’s just accepted that it’s going to be her when Bellamy leans down and gathers up their clothes from the floor before disappearing into the bathroom.

She stands staring after him for the brief moment he’s gone and then he’s back, a slightly sheepish expression on his face.

“You said you wanted to hang them up,” he explains with a shrug. “I figured I should before one of us got… carried away.”

Clarke can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her at his words. “You’re kind of ridiculous sometimes, you know that?” she asks, stepping closer and trailing a finger down his chest, making him shiver.

“Good thing you’re into kind of ridiculous then,” he replies, voice hitching as she reaches his dick, which twitches under her touch.

“Isn’t it?”

They move at the same time, mouths crashing together as her arms come up to wrap around his neck and his snake around her waist, fingers digging into her skin as he pulls her flush against him.

Despite both of them already being completely naked, they start out slow, just kissing for a long, drawn out moment. Then Bellamy’s hand slide down, cupping her ass and pressing her closer and, yeah, she needs him inside her now.

She breaks the kiss and pulls away enough to be able to look up at him. “I wonder if we’re dry enough for the bed…”

His mouth quirks up on one side. “I hope _you’re_ not, or I’m doing something wrong.”

Clarke punches him lightly in the shoulder. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He just chuckles and ducks into the bathroom again, reappearing a moment later with a towel, drying himself off. She takes the opportunity to admire him, letting her eyes trail up and down his body slowly.

“Like what you see?” he asks when their eyes meet again.

“Always.”

The dark flash in his eyes makes her half-expect him to push her up against the wall, but instead he drapes the towel around her shoulders and starts patting her dry. When he’s satisfied, he throws the towel in the general direction of the bathroom and steps closer.

“Dry enough,” Bellamy decides, circling her nipple with one finger before trailing it down her chest and stomach, teasing her curls for a moment before pushing it inside her. “And plenty wet enough…”

It’s tempting to just let him keep going, but she gathers all her strength and pushes him away with a hand against his chest. “On the bed.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Princess wants to be in charge, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” she agrees, watching as he backs up against the bed and then throws himself onto his back, bouncing a little. The bed’s a four-poster, and for a moment, Clarke has a vision of getting a couple of belts or something and tying his legs and arms to the posts, getting him completely under her power… but maybe another time. “You got a problem with that?”

He’s watching her hungrily as she crosses the room and kneels at the bottom of the bed. “Never.”

“Good.”

She gets comfortable on her knees, running her nails lightly up his thigh, making him bite his lip. She just knows that he wants to reach out, pull her up to him, but he resists. She rewards him by leaning down and letting her tongue circle the head of his dick.

“Oh, fuck.”

She breaks away for a moment to give him an innocent smile. “Not quite yet.”

Then she takes him in her mouth, as far as she can, and really gets to work.

Normally, Bellamy likes to tangle his hand in her hair when she blows him, but he must be taking the ‘in charge’ thing seriously, because he doesn’t try to touch her at all. He can’t help his hips jerking at times, but she just takes that as a sign she’s doing a good job.

“Hey, hey, stop,” he gets out after a while, and she reluctantly releases him.

“Why?”

“I’m getting close, don’t want this to be over too soon.”

Clarke bites her lip, wrapping her hand around him and enjoying the way he clenches his jaws together to try to maintain control.

“We have all night, I’m sure you’ll recover,” she says and doesn’t give him a chance to argue before wrapping her lips around him again.

She’s getting more desperate for friction herself, though, so after a moment, she shifts so she’s straddling his leg and can grind down against him, which makes tendrils of pleasure shoot all through her body. She moans at the feeling, and apparently the vibrations from her mouth are the last drop, because Bellamy lets out a half-choked curse and comes without the normal warning he always tries to give her.

She swallows down before pulling away and he gives her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, that one caught me off guard too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she assures him, moving up his body so she can kiss him. “You know I love making you lose control.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” he murmurs against her lips. “Want me to get you off quickly or take my time?” He slides one hand down her stomach and rubs against her clit, and she can’t help the way her hips jerk in response. “I’ll take that as a vote for quick.”

And, really, she was already right there on the edge, because as soon as he leans down to suck her nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, she’s gone.

“OK, good start,” she breathes out when she’s come back down, pulling away a little from his fingers, still insistent against her clit.

Bellamy chuckles at that. “Yeah? I was kind of hoping to make you scream…”

His words make shivers run through her. “The night’s still young, we have time.”

He slides two fingers inside her, curling them just right. “Sounds like a plan.”

And he does, a few hours later. Clarke has no idea how many orgasms she’s had by now, but she’s definitely approaching double digits.

She’s on her feet next to the bed, bent almost double with her elbows resting on the mattress. The angle makes every single thrust hit her G spot, and hard too, and she’s already teetering on the edge when Bellamy finds her clit with one hand and a nipple with the other, and with another deep thrust, she’s coming harder than she has in a long time.

“There,” he breathes when they’ve collapsed on the bed. “I said I’d make you scream, didn’t I?”

She manages to give him a thumbs up. “Good job.”

He pulls her closer, burying his nose in her hair. “Team effort.”

-100-

Clarke keeps a close eye on Bellamy the next day, but if he’s anxious about finally going to the Philippines, he doesn’t show it. Or he’s not worrying yet, their flight isn’t until late, after all.

They try to explore the city a little, but the temperature’s risen even more and they’re back at the hotel within an hour, alternating between cooling off in their room and the pool.

She waits until they’re on the plane late that night before bringing it up.

“You OK?” she asks.

He opens his mouth, as if to respond, but then closes it again, thinking her question over. “Excited but nervous,” he finally says.

“Why nervous?” She leans her head against the seat and studies him as he considers.

“Just… I’m really looking forward to getting to know the country, seeing where my dad was from, but the whole…” He lets out a long breath. “It’s the family thing.”

She takes his hand and squeezes. “I get it. I mean, I don’t _get_ it, obviously, since I don’t have a family at all, but… I can relate.”

Bellamy chuckles at that. “Even if you did have one, I doubt you’d really be able to understand.”

“It is a pretty unique situation.”

He hums in agreement and closes his eyes. She almost thinks he’s fallen asleep – it is the middle of the night, after all – when he speaks again.

“Your friend, has she…” he starts, cutting himself off and clearing his throat. “Do you know if she’s been able to find out anything about them?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Honestly, no. I told her she could just tell us whatever she found when we got there, and that she could email if she had any questions, but she hasn’t, so I’m assuming she’s getting on fine. Did you want her to keep us posted on the process?”

He shrugs. “Not really. It would kind of suck to know that there’s nothing to be found before we even get there, I think I’d rather find out then.”

“You don’t think she’ll find anything?”

He doesn’t answer right away, turning his head to look out the small airplane window for a moment before refocusing on her. “I don’t know. It might just be the whole… I’ve never had a family apart from my mom and sister, you know. And even then, it was really just me and O… Why would I find someone now?”

“Because you’re actually looking?” she suggests. “I mean, you haven’t before, right? So you couldn’t have found them.”

“No, I guess. They could have found me, though. If they wanted to.”

The last part is spoken so quietly she’s not sure he really meant for her to hear. But she did, so she tightens her grip on his hand and moves closer, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Are you sure?”

“They found us when my dad died, why wouldn’t they be able to do it again if they wanted?” Bellamy shoots back, voice harsh, and then winces. “Sorry, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s OK,” she assures him. “Just… you were a baby, you don’t really know what happened back then. It could have been your mom who reached out to them, or, I don’t know… the embassy or something, I assume they’re informed when a foreign citizen dies. They may never have actually known where you guys were, or if they did, maybe you moved after and they didn’t know where?”

He frowns, as if it’s never occurred to him before. “I guess you do have a point,” he then admits.

Clarke holds back a laugh at the grudging note in his voice. “I know I do. So how about we wait and see what Anya has to say, before jumping to any conclusions?”

“Fine. So what’s the plan, anyway? We’re here for… a week and a half?”

She doesn’t even need to get her phone to check their schedule. “Something like that, until next Saturday. I didn’t want to plan too much, in case we end up wanting to spend all our time with… I mean, if Anya does find someone. Anyway, I figured we’d want a day to get settled…”

“Because of the huge time difference, obviously,” Bellamy cuts her off. “Jetlag’s a bitch.”

She kicks him lightly in the shins. “You know I mean because we’re arriving in the middle of the night. So yeah, we have tomorrow to ourselves. I figured we’d sleep in a bit and explore the city. Then we’re meeting Anya the day after, finding out what she’s got, and I guess we’ll go from there, really.”

“But we have hotel rooms, right?”

“Yeah, three nights in Manila – including tonight – then six nights in Taytay and back to Manila for two nights before we continue to Sydney. But we can change all that if we want to, skip the last two nights in Manila if we want to stay in Taytay, or leave Taytay earlier if…” She doesn’t finish the sentence – she put most of their stay in Taytay so they would be close to Bellamy’s family, if Anya found them, but if she hasn’t… well, she’s sure Bellamy will still want to see the city his dad was from, but maybe not for a whole week. “Or go somewhere else entirely, if Anya’s found people somewhere else.”

He nods as she speaks. “Or keep going to Sydney earlier, if there’s nothing here.”

“We could, yeah.”

She’s really hoping they won’t have to, though.

-100-

They both manage do doze off for a while on the plane, stumble through customs half-awake and finally crash in bed at their hotel at two thirty in the morning.

“We probably shouldn’t sleep too late,” Bellamy mumbles as she settles in against him. “If we want to get into the… not time zone but…”

“I know what you mean,” she interrupts through a yawn and then makes the effort to roll over so she can set an alarm on her phone. “There, we’re getting up at ten, that’s fine.”

“Great.”

So they’re woken up by Avicii and Aloe Blacc later in the morning. Bellamy groans and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow.

“That song is way too perky this early in the morning,” he complains.

At least that’s what Clarke thinks he says, it’s kind of hard to hear. “That’s the whole point,” she replies, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “And it’s not that early, we’ve slept for seven hours, that’s basically a normal night.”

He turns his head to look at her, so she can at least hear him more clearly. “I didn’t sleep great, had weird dreams.”

She makes a sympathetic noise and reaches out to push his curls out of his forehead, and he closes his eyes and hums, so she tangles her fingers in his hair to scratch his scalp.

“What kind of dreams?”

“Most of them were the basic sort of but not quite nightmares, you know? Getting chased, running through some sort of labyrinth, trying to find… something. I was back in high school and all of a sudden I wasn’t wearing any clothes. Then my mom was there and she was crying, and I couldn’t get to her, she just kept disappearing further and further away.”

Clarke moves closer so she can wrap an arm around him. “I’m not an expert or anything, but I think even I can interpret those dreams.”

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, it’s not like it’s hard. I’m obviously worried about getting abducted by aliens and experimented on.”

“Obviously.” She pauses for a moment. “Did your mom… do you think she wouldn’t want you to do this?”

Bellamy sighs and looks away from her. “I don’t know, really… I honestly don’t think she ever met my dad’s parents. They didn’t get married and I’m pretty sure his family never came to see me after I was born, because she said something about that the only time I asked about them, how they couldn’t even be bothered to meet their son’s only child or something.”

“Did she want them to?”

“Again, I don’t know…”

She contemplates what she’s going to say for a moment, trying to get the words right. “You know there could be a lot of reasons why they didn’t come to the US, even if they wanted to or your dad asked them, right?”

“Yeah. I know my dad left the Philippines because his dad lost his job and couldn’t support the family, so I’m guessing they were pretty poor, I doubt they would have been able to afford the trip just like that.”

“That’s what I was going to say, yeah. So if Anya has found them, you’re going to meet them with an open mind, not with… whatever prejudice your mom might have passed on to you.”

“Of course.” He gives her a half-smile. “But maybe help me remember that?”

“Obviously. What are girlfriends for?”

They manage to leave the hotel eventually, braving the warm but cloudy afternoon to explore the city a little. Their hotel is in the old parts of the city, Intramuros, close to the old city wall, and they set out following it towards the river, climbing the stairs to walk on top of it when they can.

“You know,” Bellamy starts after a while. “I was expecting something more along the lines of Tokyo or Beijing or Hong Kong, but this feels more… European.”

Clarke nods absentmindedly. “That makes sense, though, right? Wasn’t it under Spanish rule for a long time?”

“It was, yeah, so I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“A lot of the names seem to be in Spanish, or at least inspired by Spanish, as well,” she adds, glancing at the street sign on the wall next to them. “I know ‘muralla’ is Spanish for wall.”

“Huh. You learn something every day.”

They grab a late lunch at a hole-in-the-wall place that, according to at least a couple of people on TripAdvisor, has the best sisig in the city. They decide to go for a vegetarian version, since neither of them are too keen on trying pig head or chicken liver.

“I need to look up the recipe for this, try to make it when we get home,” Bellamy notes when they’ve finished their food and paid their bill.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Clarke agrees, looping her arm with his and tugging him along down the street.

If either of them think about the fact that they’ll only have a week’s worth of dinners once they’re back in New York, they don’t mention it.

They continue through the city, eventually stumbling across the one historical site Clarke has on her list – the sixteenth century citadel Fort Santiago.

It’s not as impressive as some of the other places they’ve visited, but she can tell that it’s different for Bellamy. It’s a part of his heritage, in a way, for all he’s never been to the country before. She knows he must have read about the citadel before they got here, but he doesn’t keep up a running commentary, instead just giving her quiet, brief glimpses of its history.

She lets him set the pace and lead her around the area, and they stroll around for a couple of hours, backtracking now and then and getting off track from time to time.

“Time to head back to the hotel?” he asks when he’s apparently happy with the visit.

She glances at her watch – almost five thirty.

“There’s supposed to be a nice boardwalk along the bay where you have an amazing view of the sunset,” she says. “I was thinking we could check it out, maybe grab dinner or something? But we can go back to the hotel if you want.”

Bellamy wraps an arm around her waist. “No, let’s do that. How far is it? Maybe grab a cab?”

It’s only about half an hour’s walk, according to Google Maps, but they opt for a cab anyway, since it’s still pretty hot, and then stroll along the water as the sun turns it golden before finally dipping below the horizon.

“How many sunsets have we watched on this trip, you think?” Clarke asks when the last of the rays are gone. The sky is still light, different shades of pink, gold and blue.

“A lot,” he replies. Which is true. They did try to watch the sunset every night in the Seychelles, and there have definitely been many more beside those.

“I like it,” she says. “It feels like… a good end to a day, you know?”

“It does, yeah.”

Of course, the day isn’t really over yet, so they leave the boardwalk to find somewhere to eat, ending up at a pretty fancy restaurant across the street. They let the waiter recommend a local dish and end up with delicious kalderetang baka.

“Another one for your recipe book?” Clarke asks after a few bites.

“Absolutely,” Bellamy replies. “Maybe we’ll do a big dinner for everyone when we get back, Filipino style? On the evening of the 26th.”

The meat she’s chewing feels like it starts to grow in her mouth, but she resolutely swallows it down and plasters on a smile. “That sounds nice.”

She was already planning on tiring Bellamy out when they got back to the hotel, in an attempt to give him a good night’s sleep. So what if it also serves to make her forget just how little time they have left together?

-100-

Clarke was pretty sure that Bellamy wouldn’t want to meet Anya somewhere public, so she sends her a message with their hotel and room number after they’ve had breakfast on Thursday morning, getting back ‘OK. See you in 30’ after a few minutes.

“Anya says she’ll be here in half an hour,” she tells Bellamy, who looks up from his phone so quickly she worries he hurt his neck.

“Oh.”

She crosses the room and sits down next to him on the small couch at the foot of the bed. “You did know we were meeting her today. Did you want to do it later?”

He puts his phone away with a sigh. “No. I’d rather get it over with, honestly. But it just… it feels _real_ all of a sudden, you know?”

She leans her head against his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap around her. “But good real, right?”

“Right now more scary real. But it will be good. Either way, I’ll know, so… that’s good.”

“OK, good. Just let me know if it gets to be too much at some point, promise?”

He squeezes her. “Promise.”

They stay curled together on the couch until there’s a knock on the door and Clarke disentangles herself and goes to let Anya in.

“Griffin,” the other Keeper greets her with a curt nod.

Clarke can’t help the smile on her face – Anya’s always so serious. “Hi, Anya. Come on in.”

She steps aside and Anya passes her, giving Bellamy a scrutinizing look before claiming a seat in the armchair next to the couch. “I assume this is the Norm,” she says, turning to Clarke.

“Bellamy, yes.”

He gives her a little wave. “Hi. Thanks for doing this.”

“It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it might be,” she replies with a half-shrug, opening a bag Clarke didn’t see before and pulling out an official looking manila envelope.

“You found something?” Clarke asks, feeling Bellamy’s hand closing around hers in a tight grip.

“Of course I did,” Anya says with only a hint of condescension, which is pretty good for her. “We might not be on the same level as the US, but a lot of the official information has been digitized. It’s not the middle ages anymore.”

“No, I know,” Clarke backtracks. “I just… I had no idea what the national registration might be like here, so I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to find anything.”

Anya opens the folder in her lap before looking up again. “It would probably have been more difficult if I was dealing with a smaller city or town, or the countryside, where there’s still people who go their entire lives without being registered anywhere, but this was just Manila and Taytay, which helped.”

Bellamy is still frozen next to her, so Clarke continues. “OK, so what did you find?”

Anya holds out the top paper in the folder to Bellamy, who takes it quietly. “This is your father, Francisco Balangao, yes?”

He nods and then clears his throat. “Yes, that was his name. The photo matches the one in his passport, and the dates seem to check out.”

“Good.” She pulls out two more papers and hands them over. “These are his parents, Rosamie, maiden name Santos, and Danilo. Rosamie was born in Taytay in 1946 and Danilo here in Manila in 1944, so they’re 72 and 75 respectively, Danilo just had a birthday in March.”

Bellamy’s hand tightens almost painfully around Clarke’s and he lets out a slightly strangled sound which makes Anya look over at him.

“They’re still alive?”

“Yes. I have their address in Taytay here.” She gives him another piece of paper and he stares down at it, lips moving as if he’s trying out the names in his head. “You have two aunts and two uncles, though one aunt lives somewhere in Europe, I can’t remember where right now. Your grandparents live with the daughter that’s still in the country. Ten cousins living here, the youngest is six, the oldest is twenty-eight. A couple of kids, first cousins once removed or whatever that makes them. I have all the names here, but maybe you can read those on your own.”

“Have you contacted them?” Clarke asks and Anya shakes her head.

“No. I know the address is current, I did check with the local authorities, so they do live there. I can’t promise they’ll be home, of course, but judging by their financial records, I don’t think they’re the kind of people who travel much, though they do have valid passports.”

Clarke gives her a questioning look. “You checked their financial records?”

“I checked everything I could,” Anya replies with a shrug.

“OK, well, as long as you didn’t do anything illegal.”

A ghost of a smile, the type that always made a shiver run down Clarke’s spine when they lived in the same city and actually spent time together now and then, appears on Anya’s face. “Nothing they can trace back to me.”

Remembering that Bellamy is still in the room, Clarke turns to him. “You OK?”

He tears his eyes from the papers in his lap to give her a wide-eyed look. “Yeah, I’m… yeah.”

Which basically means that he’s overwhelmed and not sure what to do, so she squeezes his hand and gets up, nodding at Anya to follow her to the door. They step out into the hallway and Clarke lets the door close almost completely, keeping her hand in the crack.

“I think that went as well as can be expected,” she says, keeping her voice low.

Anya raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “That was well?”

Clarke glances at the door. “He’s just… I don’t think he was expecting you to find anything, so he’s a little overwhelmed right now.”

“Right. So you said you might need an interpreter, if I did find his family?”

She had almost forgotten that, but she did. “That would be great, if you don’t mind? We’re staying here tonight too and then we’re going to Taytay tomorrow, does that work for you?”

Anya inclines her head. “I don’t have anything pressing tomorrow, so that will be fine. I would say it’s likely that his aunt and uncles, maybe even his grandparents, at least understand English even if they might not speak it well, and the cousins should be able to handle that part, but it would probably be good if someone who speaks both languages explains everything at first. Just to make sure nothing gets lost in translation, if you will. I won’t be able to stay more than the day, though.”

Clarke offers her a grateful smile. “Thanks so much, really.”

Anya straightens up and Clarke remembers how she always stiffened when someone would show appreciation. Apparently that’s not something you grow out of, even in several decades.

“Yes. So I will see you back here tomorrow, same time?”

Clarke checks her watch – ten thirty. “Yes, that should be fine. Are we taking the bus or train, or should we rent a car?”

“I have a car, don’t worry about it. You might need to make your way back to Manila on your own, depending on when you’ll want to return here, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“OK. Thanks, again, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

With another nod, Anya is gone and Clarke goes back into the hotel room.

Bellamy is still sitting where she left him, staring at the papers in his hands. She crosses the room and gently pries them from his fingers, making him look up with a frown.

“Seriously, are you OK?” she asks.

He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and then a smile finally appears on his face.

“I’m good, really. I can’t believe I have a family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	43. So Shall My Heart Be at Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the second big family reunion – if you can call it a reunion if you haven’t met before? Time to meet Bellamy’s dad’s family, anyway. I had so much fun writing this part, figuring out all the relationships and family members, and I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “I’ll Find My Way Home” by Vangelis

It’s a good thing they don’t have any plans after Anya leaves, because Bellamy is basically useless for the rest of the day.

He doesn’t move for a long time, just flipping through the papers she left with them, reading the sparse information on there, looking at the couple of pictures she included.

After a while, he looks up, a frown on his face as he scans the room. “Where’s my phone?” he asks, and Clarke grabs it from the small table next to the couch where he left it earlier.

“Here. You OK?”

He takes the phone with a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good, you can stop asking. I just wanted to check if anyone’s on Facebook.”

It turns out that several of his cousins are, and one aunt, so that eats up another hour or so, clicking through the profiles that are open and looking at all the photos. Trying to find parts of himself in these people that are _family_ , as foreign as that feels.

Clarke finally manages to get him to leave the hotel room around one in the afternoon, arguing that they need to eat.

There’s a McDonald’s right next to the hotel, and Bellamy half-turns in that direction, but she loops her arm through his and pulls him along across the street, following the city wall in the opposite direction to yesterday.

“Come on, you need some fresh air,” she tells him. “There’s a nice park, like, ten minutes from here with some stuff I wanted to check out, we might as well get that out of the way, just in case we decide to not come back to Manila before we leave.”

He glances down at her. “Can we do that?”

“Of course. I’ve told you, all our hotel reservations can be canceled. And our flight to Sydney doesn’t leave until eight in the evening, so we can head back that afternoon if we want.”

Clarke feels his thumb slip between their intertwined hands to rub against her palm. “Right, it’s _that_ flight.”

His tone of voice makes it perfectly clear what he’s referring to, but she chooses to pretend she doesn’t get it anyway. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckles at that. “You don’t have to give me an out, I’m actually kind of looking forward to it.”

“Yeah?” She feels a shiver of anticipation. “Good to know.”

They grab some food and stroll around the park for a while, and it actually seems to take Bellamy’s mind off the whole family thing, so she counts it as a rounding success. She brings up Google on her phone so they can read about the different monuments in the park, and when they find out that the museums are free of charge, Bellamy actually suggests visiting both the planetarium and the natural history museum.

Somehow, they while away the entire afternoon and part of the evening exploring the two museums, and only return to the hotel for dinner after the sun has set.

It’s not until they’re in bed, the curtains drawn against the street lights outside, the room dark and quiet, that Bellamy brings up tomorrow.

“What if they don’t want to see me?”

His voice is barely a whisper, and if she had been about to fall asleep, she might have missed it. But she was kind of waiting for _something_ like this, especially after their talk yesterday, so Clarke just turns in his arms so she can look up at him.

“Why wouldn’t they want to see you? You’re awesome.”

His mouth twists into more of a grimace than the smile she was hoping for. “They won’t know that until they meet me, though. And maybe they won’t want to.”

She wants to tell him that of course they will, but she obviously can’t promise that, and she knows she won’t ease any of his apprehension by offering weak half-lies.

“I can tell you that I don’t think that will happen, but I know it won’t help,” she still says. “But just… even if they, for some reason, don’t want to meet you and get to know you – which would be their loss, by the way – that wouldn’t reflect on you in any way. You know that, right?”

Bellamy finally gives her a smile, a small one, but still. “I do know that.”

“OK, good.”

“I just… I know not everyone here’s super religious or anything,” he continues after a quiet moment. “But it does sort of feel like my mom’s parents all over again, you know? If they’re Catholic, they’re probably not really too happy about their son knocking up some American woman out of wedlock…”

“Maybe not,” Clarke agrees. “But still, that was over thirty years ago, and you’re the only thing they have left of their son. Even if they weren’t happy back when it happened, I would definitely bet on time having softened that. I think they’re going to be really happy to get to meet you.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “Maybe. I hope so.”

She inches closer, nosing at his chin before placing a kiss against his throat. “You want me to distract you?”

His arm wraps around her and he rolls onto his back, bringing her with him. “Couldn’t hurt.”

-100-

Judging by the way Bellamy’s eyelids droop when her alarm goes off in the morning, Clarke doesn’t think her very vigorous distractions did much to help him sleep.

“You going to be able to stay awake for this?” she asks when he leans his head against her shoulder as they sit outside the hotel waiting for Anya.

“Just let me sleep in the car, I’ll be fine,” he tells her through a yawn, just as a car stops in front of them.

“The drive’s only about an hour,” she replies, nudging him to get up. “We honestly could have probably stayed at this hotel, but I wasn’t sure either of us would want to drive back and forth every day.”

“I didn’t realize that you would be bringing all your things,” Anya half-grumbles while opening the trunk for their bags.

“Yeah, we have a hotel booked in Taytay for the next six days,” Clarke explains. “Good thing your car’s big enough.”

They get everything, including Bellamy, loaded into the car and after they plug the address into the sat nav, they set off.

It doesn’t really feel like they leave Manila, the cities bleed together forming one large, urban area, but soon enough, Anya pulls off the street and into a parking spot outside what is apparently their new hotel.

“I assume we’re just unloading and then continuing?” she asks, turning the engine off and giving Clarke a questioning look.

She, in turn, glances at Bellamy, who seems to have just woken up again. He shrugs, as if leaving the decision up to her, but she knows that he won’t be able to relax until they’ve at least gone to the address Anya has.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan,” she therefore says. “And you need to get back too, so…”

Anya nods. “OK, then go check in and drop your things off, and I’ll be here when you’re ready to keep going.”

So they grab their bags and head into the hotel. The check-in goes quickly and they’re back in the car within ten minutes, minus their luggage. This time, Clarke slides into the backseat with Bellamy instead of sitting up front with Anya, taking his hand in a firm grip when they’re buckled in. Anya gives him a dispassionate once-over in the rearview mirror before starting the car.

“Will he be able to handle this?” she asks once they’re back in traffic. “He looks like he might keel over any moment.”

Her question pulls a snort from Bellamy, but Clarke still gives her a pointed look. “He’s just nervous. You would be too, in his position.”

Anya doesn’t respond, just shrugs and keeps her focus on the road ahead.

It’s not a long drive from the hotel, maybe ten minutes. Clarke thinks they could probably walk, if they wanted to. The area looks like it’s in the middle of being reinvented – some of the older houses look like they’re about ready to fall down, but there are also newer ones, in bright colors, that look fresh and sturdy.

Anya stops in front of one of these houses, a green, two-story building with a bright blue fence separating the small courtyard from the street outside. There’s a balcony on the second floor, running along the entire front of the house, full of plants of different types.

“This is it,” Anya says, nodding out the window.

Bellamy’s hand tightens around Clarke’s to a point where it’s almost painful, and she gently pulls her hand free, leaning closer to him. “It’ll be fine,” she whispers in his ear, and he nods, almost mechanically. “Come on.”

Anya opens the door for them and then they’re standing in front of the house, Bellamy’s eyes darting back and forth so quickly Clarke doubts he’s taking anything in.

A gasp pulls their attention to the shady porch along the house, where there’s an older woman, one hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide and fixed on Bellamy.

They all stand frozen for a moment longer, then Anya takes charge, stepping up to the gate and saying something to the woman. Clarke picks up the name ‘Rosamie Balangao’, at which the woman nods quickly. She still doesn’t move, though, until Anya says something else, and then she reaches for the gate with trembling hands. Anya helps her push it open and they all step through.

The woman – Rosamie – calls something over her shoulder, and a moment later, two young boys and a girl appear in the doorway. The boys look like twins, probably around four or five years old, and the girl maybe a year or two older. They all take in the strangers with wide, wary eyes, until Rosamie says something else. The girl nods and slinks past them, disappearing out into the street and pushing the gate closed behind her. The two boys stay where they are, staring openly, but Rosamie waves them away and they go back into the house.

Her eyes haven’t left Bellamy since she spotted him, and now she finally comes closer, slowly, as if afraid to scare him off. He doesn’t move, but Clarke can feel the tension in his body, would probably be able to feel his heart racing if he were closer.

Rosamie isn’t very tall, probably a couple of inches shorter than Clarke, so when she reaches them, she has to tilt her head back to be able to look at Bellamy. He still looks like he might pass out or bolt at any moment, but he doesn’t turn away.

Rosamie studies him intently for a long moment, as if wanting to commit him to memory, and he does the same. If it wasn’t for his deathlike grip on her hand, Clarke might try to give the two of them some privacy, but as it is, she can’t really do anything other than stand there and offer her silent support.

The moment feels eternal, like time has stopped moving around them, but finally, Rosamie breaks it, reaching up to cup Bellamy’s face in her hands. A half-sob escapes her but she’s still smiling.

“My Bellamy.”

It’s not someone sounding out a name for the first time, not a foreign collection of syllables to her. It sounds almost like a prayer, like something she’s used to mumbling under her breath, like hope.

Bellamy just nods, and then he finally releases Clarke’s hand, leaning down to wrap his grandmother in a tight hug that she returns just as fiercely.

Clarke glances at Anya, who nods at the porch where a few chairs are set out, and they make their way over to them quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment happening in front of them.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ll need me after all,” Anya notes.

Clarke shrugs. “We might still need help to talk to them,” she replies, even though she doubts it. Even if they have language issues, they’ll be able to work through them, she’s sure.

Bellamy and Rosamie are still embracing when the gate to the street slides open again and the little girl from earlier reappears, followed by an older man who stops short at the sight in front of him. Anya gets up and approaches him, presumably introducing them and explaining the situation.

The little girl is hanging back, half-hiding behind her grandfather (great-grandfather?). When she glances over at Clarke, she offers a smile which the girl returns shyly.

Rosamie seems to finally realize that her husband has returned and steps away from Bellamy, only to grasp one of his hands in both of hers and pulling him over to Anya and Danilo. He follows her willingly, looking a little dazed, and Clarke decides it’s time to join the party.

“Dani!” Rosamie exclaims, smile so wide it looks almost painful. “Our Bellamy, he is finally home, see?”

Danilo nods, a smile on his face as well. “I see, Rosa.” He reaches out, clasping Bellamy’s free hand in both of his. “Welcome home, son. We have hoped but… we did not know…”

Bellamy clears his throat, but his voice is still a little shaky. “I know, I understand.”

The little girl tugs on Rosamie’s arm and says something, and the woman claps her hands together resolutely. “Come, come, it is too warm, but nice and cool inside.”

She ushers the girl in front of her, Danilo following, and Clarke, Bellamy and Anya bring up the rear.

“You doing OK?” she asks quietly as they step onto the porch.

He nods, still a slightly disorientated expression on his face. “Yeah, I… they’re actually happy to see me, I couldn’t even…”

“See?” She nudges him lightly with her elbow. “I told you they would be.”

He huffs a laugh. “You did. Honestly, I was trying to prepare myself for the worst, I don’t really know where to go from here.”

She squeezes his hand and tugs him along towards the door. “From here, we go inside and get to know your family.”

The smile on his face is impossibly bright. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

The house is indeed cool, once they’ve closed the door behind them. They’re in a narrow corridor that leads to a set of stairs straight ahead. To the left is an archway leading into what looks like a sitting room and to the right a smaller doorway, probably to the kitchen. They can hear Rosamie’s voice from the right, accompanied by the little girl’s now and then, but Danilo and the two little boys are in the living room, and the old man gestures at them, so they go to join him.

“Come, sit,” he says, indicating a couple of sofas and armchairs grouped around a coffee table. “Rosa and Ella will bring something to drink.”

“Thank you,” Clarke says, claiming one of the sofas with Bellamy on one side and Anya hovering awkwardly on the other.

“This is my girlfriend, Clarke,” Bellamy takes over. “And her friend, Anya. She lives in Manila, she’s the one who helped us find you.”

Danilo’s face lights up in another bright smile and he shakes Anya’s hand almost violently. Her eyes widen but she doesn’t say anything, which Clarke knows must take quite a bit of effort. Anya doesn’t do well with strangers.

“Thank you so much for helping our boy find his way home.”

She offers him a tight smile and carefully pulls her hand free. “You’re welcome. But I did only come as an interpreter, if that should be needed, and it seems like you’ll be just fine on your own, so I should probably get going. I don’t want to intrude on this special time.”

Danilo nods understandingly. “Of course. We do not speak English much, but I think we can get by. And my daughter will be home soon, she can help if we need it.”

“Good.” Anya turns to Clarke. “You have my number, call me if you need help with anything else, like a ride back to Manila on Thursday.”

Clarke offers her a smile. “We will, thanks so much for everything.”

With a nod, Anya is gone, the door closing behind her just as Rosamie and the girl – Ella – appear in the doorway with a large pitcher of what looks like lemonade and a tray with glasses.

“Your friend cannot stay?” Rosamie asks, waiting until Ella puts the glasses down and then pouring the drink into them.

“No, she’s going back to Manila,” Clarke tells her. “We weren’t sure if we would need an interpreter, so she offered to come with us, but we’re doing fine so she decided to head out.”

Rosamie nods. “You are not going back to Manila today?” She holds out a glass to Clarke, who accepts it with a smile, and then one to Bellamy as well.

“No, we have a room at a hotel here until Thursday,” he replies, taking the glass and having a sip. “This is really good, what is it?”

She continues to hand the glasses out until everyone has one, then sits down in the armchair next to Bellamy. “It is called _calamansi_ juice, we make it from a fruit we use much for cooking. It is very nice in the summer, it is, how do you say… fresh?”

“Refreshing?” Bellamy suggests, and she nods.

“Yes, refreshing. Some words, I cannot think what to say in English.”

Clarke takes a drink from her glass as well – it really is refreshing. “Your English is very good,” she says. Both Rosamie and Danilo have a pretty heavy accent, it’s true, but they’re still easy to understand.

Rosamie reaches across Bellamy to pat Clarke’s hand. “Thank you, _sinta_.”

The word – Clarke assumes it’s some sort of endearment – apparently reminds Bellamy that he hasn’t introduced her to his grandmother.

“Sorry, this is my girlfriend Clarke.”

“Clarke,” Rosamie repeats. “It is very nice to meet you. I am Rosamie, Bellamy’s grandmother, and this is my husband Danilo, our granddaughter – your cousin, Bellamy – Ella and our great grandsons Daniel and Nicholas.”

The three children have all crawled up into another of the armchairs, and one of the boys waves a little shyly when he hears his name. Clarke waves back and he quickly hides his face against Ella’s shoulder.

“And you… you know who I am?” Bellamy says, the inflection making it sound like a question.

Rosamie takes his hand in hers. “Of course. You look just like your father.” She holds up a finger before getting to her feet and going over to a book case against the opposite wall, where she pulls out what looks like a photo album. When she’s sat down again, she opens the album to the first page. “See?”

Clarke leans over Bellamy to be able to see as well and, yeah, there is no doubt whatsoever that the man in the photo is Bellamy’s father. His skin is a little darker, his hair cut short so she can’t tell if it curled the same way Bellamy’s does, but it’s still completely obvious. The eyes, the nose, the chin, all these little details are the same.

Bellamy has reached out, seemingly unknowingly, not quite touching the photo.

“My mom had a couple of photos,” he says after a moment. “But they were all bad Polaroids or from old photo boots, you know? And the passport photo wasn’t very good either. I didn’t know I looked so much like him.”

Rosamie pats his cheek gently. “My beautiful boy.”

Clarke’s not sure if she means Bellamy, his dad, or both of them.

“Your mother, she is not with you?” Danilo pipes in from the other sofa across the table.

Bellamy shakes his head. “No, she… she died, thirteen years ago this summer.”

Rosamie’s eyes turn sad. “Oh, _mahal_ , I am so sorry.”

He offers her a smile. “It’s been a long time, but thank you.”

She watches him closely for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether to ask anything else, but in the end, she just nods and turns the page, to reveal another photo of the same man, this time leaning against a car with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“This is before he left for America,” she says. “The last time we saw him.”

“Did you have any contact after he left?” Bellamy asks, tearing his eyes from the photo.

“Oh, yes.” Rosamie nods, a small smile on her face. “He called us every month, and sent letters too.”

Another page, and another photo, this one of a man and a woman, and Clarke hears Bellamy pull in a sharp breath.

“Mom…”

This time he does touch the photo, tracing his mother’s face and then his father’s.

“He loved your mother very much,” Rosamie says quietly. “And she loved him, I believe.”

Bellamy looks up at her. “Yeah?”

“I spoke to her a little one time when Isko called,” she says with a small smile. “Of course, I cannot be sure, but… a mother knows.”

He nods, moving to turn the page but freezing at the last moment. She nods to tell him that it’s fine, and he flips to the next page.

“Is that you?” Clarke asks, leaning closer to get a better look.

The photo’s of a baby, wrapped in a blanket and cradled in someone’s arms, so it’s hard to tell, but the dark hair is already curling a little at the ends and she thinks she can discern a dusting of freckles.

“I had no idea he sent pictures,” Bellamy says, voice incredulous.

“Oh, yes, many pictures,” Rosamie confirms. “He wanted us to know you, even if we could not come there and see you. It was too expensive, you see, we could not… Dani lost his work and we had the other children, we…”

Bellamy reaches out to take her hand, cutting her off. “I understand, trust me. It wasn’t your fault, it was just… I get it.”

She nods and squeezes his hand before turning her attention back to the album.

And there really are a lot of pictures. She flips through the rest of the album, which is full of photos cataloguing the first months of Bellamy’s life, at least one a week, as far as Clarke can tell. On the final page is one of the whole family – Aurora sitting on a chair with Bellamy in her lap, Francisco standing behind her, hands on her shoulders. Both of the adults have happy smiles on their faces and Bellamy seems fascinated by something behind the camera, eyes wide and one hand reaching for whatever it is. Clarke’s no expert on babies by any means, but she would probably put him at eight or nine months old.

“This was the last one he sent,” Rosamie says quietly. “It came the day after they called from the embassy to tell us…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, and Danilo appears at her side, hand squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. It’s clear that their son’s death still affects them both very much.

“Isko always called us from a payphone with one of those… cards,” he says. “He said it was cheaper. So we never had a phone number for him, or an address. We tried to find you and your mother after he died, but… it was hard from here. We could not afford to get anyone to help, so there was not much we could do.”

“We tried,” Rosamie adds, voice pleading. “We asked the embassy but we only had her first name and yours…”

Clarke can feel Bellamy let out a long breath next to her and knows hearing this must be such a relief. They didn’t just forget about him or never care. They tried.

“It’s OK,” he says, squeezing Rosamie’s hand. “I understand. I don’t know if my mom could have… if she knew anything. Maybe she could have reached out to you. But she was…her parents threw her out when she was sixteen, I think she had a hard time trusting people after that.”

“Well, you are here now,” Rosamie says with a determined nod. “What is it they say, better later than not at all?”

“Better late than never,” Bellamy corrects her with a smile.

“Yes, that.”

A loud cry comes from somewhere in the house at that moment, startling both Clarke and Bellamy. Rosamie, though, just gets to her feet.

“Our great granddaughter,” Danilo explains when she’s disappeared into the hallway. “The boys’ sister, she is seven months old. We have both retired, so we take care of the little ones when their parents work. Ella, Nicholas, Daniel, Marisol and their cousin Aira, but she is with her mother today.”

Ella has moved from the armchair, where the two boys are having some sort of kicking war, by the looks of it, and curled up next to her grandfather on the sofa instead. Bellamy offers her a smile.

“It must be nice, to get to hang out with your grandparents and the kids all day, huh?” he asks and she looks up at Danilo, who says something in Filipino – probably translating what Bellamy just said. When he finishes, she looks back at Bellamy and nods.

“The children, they learn English in school,” Danilo explains. “She will start in the fall.”

“Right, of course.”

Rosamie returns then, sitting down in the armchair she left with a drowsy looking girl in her lap. She blinks up at the strangers before rubbing her eyes and leaning against Rosamie.

“It’s nice that you’re able to help with the kids like this,” Bellamy notes, but she waves him off.

“They are family, it is what you do,” she says, eyes darting between the two of them. “You have no children?”

Bellamy’s eyes widen, so Clarke responds. “No, we haven’t been together that long. And Bellamy’s working on his Bachelor degree, so it’s not really the best time for that.”

“Oh, you are still in school?” Rosamie asks, curious.

Back on firmer ground, Bellamy nods. “Yeah. Mom died just before I was supposed to go to college, so I put school off so I could take care of my sister.”

“Sister?”

He smiles and pulls his phone out of his pocket, finding a photo from their visit to Dublin and showing her. “Octavia, she’s twenty-six. I had just turned eighteen when Mom died and she was thirteen. Her dad was never around, I couldn’t let her go to a foster family or something, and I managed to get custody of her for a few years, until she turned eighteen. I didn’t go back to school until a few years ago, and now I’m working full-time and taking night classes.”

If he notices that he’s talking in the present tense, he doesn’t let it on. And, of course, he can’t exactly tell them that he’s quit his job and won’t be going back to school because he’ll be dead in a few months, so this is probably the best way.

“She is very beautiful,” Rosamie offers. “And she is doing well?”

Bellamy smiles. “She is, yeah. It was rocky for a while, but she has a good job that she loves and lives with her boyfriend in Dublin now, so I think I did something right.”

“You did _everything_ right,” Clarke corrects, squeezing his hand, and he gives her a grateful smile.

One of the twins appears at Rosamie’s side and says something. She nods and replies, and he takes off into the hallway.

“Daniel reminded me that it is time for lunch,” she says when she turns back to them. “I forgot, with all the excitement. Would you like to stay and eat with us? Unless you have something planned…”

“We would love to,” Bellamy quickly assures her.

“Yes, of course,” Clarke adds. “The only plans we have for our stay here is to get to know Bellamy’s family, so I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with us for a while.”

Rosamie’s smile widens at her words. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Filipino words in this chapter are from Google Translate (which hurts my translator heart to use), so please forgive any errors. I’ve tried to double check on www.tagalog-dictionary.com, but it’s not always easy to be sure anyway. Both “sinta” and “mahal” are basically endearments, like “dear” or “sweetheart”


	44. And I Hear Those Ancient Lullabies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More family time coming up – there are a lot of family members to meet and get to know! Hope you like it
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “My Father’s Eyes” by Eric Clapton

They end up staying until late into the night. Rosamie tries to teach them to make pancit palabok, a noodle dish with meat and vegetables which they’re having for lunch. Bellamy quickly has Clarke demoted to chopping duty, though, telling his grandmother how she almost set a turkey on fire once. She would be annoyed about it if it didn’t end with the two of them laughing together over the stove but, well, she’s not going to disturb that special moment between them.

After they finish lunch, they move out into the backyard, where there’s a small lawn strewn with toys. Marisol is napping in Danilo’s arms, but Ella immediately jumps on the lone swing and the boys start playing with some large plastic cars, leaving the adults to talk some more.

By the time Maria – Rosamie and Danilo’s daughter who owns the house, as well as Daniel, Nicholas and Marisol’s grandmother – and her husband Ben come home, the kids have tired themselves out and are more or less asleep under the shade of a large tree in a corner of the yard. Bellamy has told his grandparents about basically his entire childhood, skimming over some of the more dire details, showing them what photos he has on his phone or that Octavia has on Facebook. They, in turn, have told him about his father and the rest of the family, flipping through album after album of pictures from the last fifty years.

By the lack of surprise, Clarke concludes that someone called Maria to let her know that her long-lost nephew is here. They join the conversation easily, Maria contributing stories about her brother that their parents don’t know – how he cut school when he was twelve to take care of an injured dog he found on the way there, how he always looked out for his younger siblings when someone picked on them, how he loved watching thunderstorms and would keep the window in their bedroom open even though Maria and their other sister, Angela, were terrified of them, so he would explain how they worked until they weren’t scared anymore.

Every story, every memory, brings to life the man that has been nothing but a ghost, a shadow, to Bellamy for so long, and Clarke can see how he laps it up, eager to hear everything. She is too, because even though they didn’t get a chance to really know each other, she can see so much of his father in him.

An hour or so after Maria and Ben get home, their daughter Sophia arrives to pick up the kids. She never met her uncle, of course, since he died before she was born, but it’s clear that she must have seen photos, because her eyes widen when she sees Bellamy.

“Wow, you really do look just like him,” she says, with less of an accent than both her parents and her grandparents.

She doesn’t stay long, but before she leaves, she sends a friend request to Clarke on Facebook, and makes them promise that they’ll hang out more before they leave, which, really, isn’t a hard promise to make. A few minutes after she leaves, Maria and Ben’s youngest, Andrea, who’s the only one of the children who hasn’t moved out on her own yet, gets home and joins the conversation for a while before making her excuses and retreating to her room to do her homework.

Rosamie insists that they stay for dinner as well – not that they argue much – and when they finally do leave, Ben won’t take no for an answer and drives them back to the hotel. He even convinces them to let him pick them up and take them back to his house in the morning, since it apparently would take almost an hour to walk and they’re not familiar with the area.

“So…” Clarke starts when they’re in bed. “Long day, but good, right?”

Bellamy lets out a long breath. “So much better than I was expecting,” he replies. “I just… I always thought they didn’t want anything to do with me. I don’t know, maybe it was self-preservation or something. And now… it’s not like I could have looked them up from home, not with the information I had, and it’s only the last few years that I would have been able to afford coming here, but I still… maybe I could have done this earlier, you know?”

She curls into him, breathing in his familiar scent. “Don’t do that, please don’t guilt trip yourself. Just… try to enjoy this time, like with Octavia. I know it’s not much, but it’s something, right?”

He wraps an arm around her and hugs her close. “It’s everything. And I’m not guilt tripping, I just… I needed to say it out loud, I guess, so I can put it behind me.”

“OK, as long as you really do that.”

“Promise.”

-100-

The next day is Saturday, and Clarke is half-expecting the entire clan to be waiting for them when they get to Maria and Ben’s house. But apart from Maria, Rosamie and Danilo, there’s only a young couple with a little girl who looks to be about one and a half. Even before the introductions, Clarke knows it must be Maria and Ben’s son Christopher, his wife Daniela and their daughter Aira, who was missing from the group of children yesterday.

It’s a relaxed morning, lounging in the shade on the back porch, sipping more of Rosamie’s calamansi juice. Aira keeps them entertained, toddling around the backyard and babbling to herself and the different toys. Christopher and Bellamy bond over some book series they both love, while Clarke and Daniela talk about traveling – Daniela spent a year as an exchange student in England and did some traveling in Europe, and she’s eager to hear about that part of their trip.

Christopher makes their excuses after they’ve had lunch, and less than half an hour after the little family leaves, Andrea and Denise, the last of Maria and Ben’s kids and the only one they haven’t met yet, pop up in the door to the house.

It’s around that time that Clarke realizes that they’re trying to not overwhelm Bellamy by having him meet everyone at once, which is sweet. He’s still completely overwhelmed, of course – the slight dazed expression from yesterday still hasn’t completely left his face – but she can see how it would have been worse if everyone had descended on them at once.

Sunday goes by in a similar fashion – Ben picks them up at their hotel in the morning, and when they get to the house, they meet Bellamy’s uncle Gabriel, his wife Natalie and their three teenage kids, Julius, Jonathan and Grace. And just like yesterday, the family makes some excuse to leave after lunch, only to be replaced by the youngest of the Balangao children, Cristian, his wife Analyn, Ella, who they’ve already met, and her older siblings Adrian and Bianca. They even Skype with Angela, the aunt living in Europe – the Netherlands, it turns out – and meet her and her husband Thomas and their two kids Melissa and Lucas remotely.

After everyone has been officially introduced, though, it’s like taking the stopper out of a bottle.

Monday means everyone’s back at work, so it’s just the two of them, Rosamie, Danilo, and the kids during the day, but at four thirty, Maria gets home, and after that, everyone else just start to trickle in. By dinner time, only a couple of the teenagers are missing, and Ben has to go around to the neighbor’s house to ask if they can borrow extra chairs so everyone will fit around the folding tables they put up in the garden for dinner. Sixteen adults and seven kids must be somewhere north of what actually fits in the space, but they make do somehow.

They spend the days learning about the family, Bellamy’s ancestors, the country and customs. Rosamie teaches him to cook whatever she’s making, while Clarke hangs back with Danilo and the kids, letting Ella teach her basic Filipino words and play with her hair. They Skype with Octavia, so Bellamy can introduce her to everyone, and get to know the area during walks in the late evening, when the heat finally gets a little less oppressive, and join Rosamie on her weekly shopping trip to the market by the river.

Neither of them mention the plan to go back to Manila for the last few days of their stay in the country, but on Wednesday morning, Clarke decides she has to bring it up.

Bellamy beats her to it, though, when he emerges from the bathroom after a shower. “So we’re supposed to go back to Manila tomorrow, right?” he asks, sitting down at the foot of bed to towel off his hair.

“Yeah,” she confirms from where she’s leaning against the headboard, reading a long email from Wells. She puts her phone away before continuing. “We don’t have to, though. We can stay here until Saturday. Or longer, if you want, we can postpone the trip to Sydney.”

He sighs and falls backwards on the bed, tilting his head to look at her. “That would mean we miss the things we have planned there, though, right? Or we push everything back and it screws up the rest of the trip.”

“Not necessarily.” She reaches out to slide her hand into his damp curls, scratching at his scalp. His eyes slide closed and he lets out a content hum. “The only thing we have on Sunday is dinner at the Sydney Tower in the evening, and the other days aren’t that packed, we’d probably have time for everything even if we left a day later.”

Bellamy’s quiet as he thinks it through, and she opens a web browser on her phone and starts searching for flights on Sunday instead of Saturday.

“It feels like it would be a lot of work for one more day,” he finally says, but Clarke can tell from his voice that he’s being logical and not saying what he really wants.

“So?” He opens his eyes to look at her and she offers a smile. “It’s one more day, I know it’s not much but it is a little more time. And we can get the exact same flight on Sunday night instead of Saturday. If we reschedule the Sydney Tower from Sunday to Thursday – we’re doing the botanical garden during the day, so we should have plenty of time for that in the evening – that just leaves the boat tour of the harbor on Monday afternoon. You think we’ll be up for that when the flight gets in at six in the morning?”

He considers her for a moment. “Show me the old itinerary.”

She gets it up on her phone and hands it over.

“Do you really think I’d lie about this stuff?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, but… just wanted to make sure you weren’t making it easier than it actually was.”

He hands the phone back and she nudges him with her foot. “So?”

“Are you sure?”

“How many times do I have to say that this is about what _you_ want to do? I’ve been to Sydney before, I might go there again, but this is the one chance you get to spend time with your family. I know it’s just one more day but that’s still a whole day more.”

It comes out a little harsher than she planned, but at least it seems to bring the message home, because Bellamy scoots up the bed so he can lean against the headboard next to her and wrap an arm around her. She leans her head against his shoulder and takes a deep breath.

“OK, then let’s stay one more day.”

“Good.”

Clarke makes all the arrangements – cancelling the hotel in Manila, changing the flight to Sydney and cancelling the first night at the hotel there, moving their dinner reservation.

“Let’s just hope this place isn’t fully booked over the weekend,” Bellamy notes when they’re leaving their room.

It’s unlikely, since it seems like the hotel’s been barely half-full since they got here, but it’s still a possibility.

“Worst case, I’m sure Maria and Ben won’t mind if we crash with them the last few days,” she replies. “They do have a guest room. Actually, do you want to just check with them before we try to get a room here for three more nights?”

She knows that Rosamie suggested to Bellamy that they check out of the hotel the first day, and that he said they didn’t want to impose – or not impose more than they already were – which she of course assured him that they wouldn’t.

But this is different, they’re staying three days longer in Taytay, and even a day longer in the Philippines, just to spend more time with the family. It makes sense, really, to actually stay with the family now.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Let’s do that.”

Knowing that Rosamie will be thrilled, and will probably convince Maria and Ben even if they don’t really want to (not that Clarke thinks they won’t, but still), they decide to ask Ben while he drives them to the house. He immediately tells them that they’re more than welcome, and when Bellamy tells Rosamie when they get to the house, it’s definitely worth it – she stares at him for a moment, then a bright smile appears on her face and she throws her arms around them both.

The rest of the week goes by in a similar fashion, with the difference that they move from the hotel to Maria and Ben’s house on Thursday morning, but on Saturday afternoon, Rosamie asks if they would like to go with her to the cemetery.

“I try to go see Isko every month,” she explains with a sad smile.

Clarke reaches out, almost automatically, to take Bellamy’s hand, and he squeezes back. “We’d love to.”

Danilo comes along as well, driving them through the city to the cemetery. It’s not a long drive, maybe fifteen minutes, but the atmosphere in the car is heavy, which makes it feel much longer.

Once they’ve gotten out of the car, Rosamie and Danilo lead the way along the pathways between the graves. Bellamy hangs back a little, and Clarke, of course, joins him.

“You OK?” she asks, quietly.

He offers her a weak smile. “I don’t know, honestly.”

“We didn’t have to come,” she points out, squeezing his hand.

“No, I… I want to. It’s just…”

“I know.”

His grandparents have come to a stop some ways ahead of them, Rosamie brushing some dirt off the railing of a grave next to the path. It’s a colorful place, for a cemetery – most graves are white, but there are also red, blue and yellow ones.

They stop next to Danilo, who pats Bellamy on the shoulder.

The grave they’re standing in front of seems to be a family grave – apart from the plaque with Francisco’s name, there are three more.

“My parents and brother,” Rosamie says, as if she can read Clarke’s mind. “Emanuel drowned when we were children, I was only four, I do not remember him, not really.”

She places the flowers she brought below the plaques and then pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and rubs a stain off one of them.

Bellamy’s quiet next to her, and Clarke looks up at him to see that he’s biting his lip, eyes glassy. She steps closer, wraps both arms around him and leans her head against his shoulder. He wraps one arm around her as well and she hears him pull in a shaky breath.

Rosamie has finished sprucing up the grave and straightens up, spotting the two of them. A knowing look appears on her face and then she’s wrapped around them both.

“I am sorry, _mahal_ , I am so sorry,” she murmurs, and Clarke feels Bellamy’s body start to shake with sobs.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, in a sort of group hug with her and Rosamie supporting Bellamy as he lets out all the grief that he must have been keeping somewhere inside his entire life, for the father he never knew. It’s Bellamy that breaks the spell, pulling out of the embrace and rubbing at his wet cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says, voice raspy.

“Stop,” Clarke tells him immediately.

“Yes, stop,” Rosamie agrees, taking his face in her hands and giving him a stern look. “It is not fair that you could not know him, but he loved you so much. And he would have been proud of the man you are today.”

He blinks away a few more tears but does manage a small smile. “Thank you.”

Clarke’s a little worried that the melancholy mood will linger, maybe even make their last evening in Taytay sad and gloomy, but when they get back to the house, they’re met by the whole extended family, plus a bunch of people they haven’t seen before.

Bellamy’s been quiet during the drive, but now a smile tugs at his mouth. “What’s this?” he asks.

Rosamie ushers them through the back door and out into the yard, where everyone’s gathered. “It is your last night here, we wanted to celebrate.”

The newcomers are Rosamie’s two sisters, Patricia and Camille, Danilo’s nephew Joshua and his two kids, Nicole and Angelo, and Francisco’s closest friend, Joseph, and his family. Once everyone’s been introduced, they really do celebrate. There’s enough food to feed a small army, a bunch of different Filipino dishes that they’ve either already tried during the week and loved, or new ones that are just as delicious.

Someone’s brought a large speaker that’s set up in an open window, and soon enough, a bunch of the kids start dancing on the lawn. Fairy lights have been strung up in the tree and along the porch roof, and once the sun has set, they cast an almost eerie light over the garden.

Rosamie and Danilo are sitting on the porch, a little apart from the actual party, along with Rosamie’s sisters and the neighbors who show up at some point, but Bellamy makes sure to check in with them now and then, sitting down for a few minutes to talk a little or just take a break.

At some point after the smaller kids are put to bed, the large table set up on the porch gets an addition of different bottles.

“What’s this?” Bellamy asks when Sophia holds out a glass for him and one for Clarke.

“Basi,” she tells them, taking a sip of her own drink. “It’s wine made from sugarcanes, not really that common here but it’s really popular in the Ilocos region, where Marc’s from, so I’ve gotten pretty much addicted to it. Try it, it’s really good.”

It is really good, and then there’s beer – the local San Miguel, which Clarke had no idea was Filipino – strawberry wine from another region, the coconut vodka lambanog, and of course cocktails made from the delicious calamansi juice. She does try to not drink too much, but somehow a new glass always appears in her hand when she’s finished her drink, and by the time the last of the guests leave, she can admit that she is pretty drunk.

Which seems to be the case for Bellamy too, judging by the way he’s leaning against her when they make their way to their bedroom. Rosamie and Danilo said goodnight earlier, and Maria and Ben disappeared around the same time, so they’re trying to be quiet so they don’t wake anyone up.

“This was… a really… good night,” Bellamy says as he kicks off his shoes, almost falling over in the process.

“It was,” she agrees, tugging him towards the bed. There’s a water bottle on each bedside table, and she drains hers before opening Bellamy’s. “Drink this.”

He does without protest and then pulls his shirt off before collapsing on the bed.

“Pants too,” she tells him, pulling her own dress over her head.

He sighs but manages to wriggle out of his khaki shorts without having to get up.

“I wish we could stay longer,” he mumbles when she slides under the sheets and snuggles closer.

“I know. Do you want to skip Sydney? We can.”

“No.” He sighs. “I just wish we had more time.”

It’s not something he’s said before, not really, and even though he probably refers to this specific part of their trip and not on their time together in general, it still makes Clarke’s throat close up a little. “I know, me too.”

-100-

They’re both a little hungover in the morning, though honestly less than Clarke feared. Her own headache basically disappears after Rosamie’s take on an American breakfast – pancakes _and_ waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and French toast – and Bellamy looks pretty awake too.

The party last night was obviously the big send-off, but family members still stop by throughout the day to say a proper goodbye. She was a little worried it would turn into a sad day with drawn out, teary farewells, but of course, everyone knows that Bellamy now has a pretty well-off girlfriend (they’ve given them Clarke’s basic background of wealthy parents leaving her money when they died), so they’re probably expecting the visit to turn into at least a yearly tradition. Rosamie has even hinted that she and Danilo might be able to afford a visit to New York, if they can find really cheap flights. Both Clarke and Bellamy know that none of this will happen, of course, but they still manage to maintain the overall happy feeling everyone else exudes.

Ben offered to drive them to the airport, since Danilo doesn’t like driving too much, but he insists that he’ll be fine. So they set off a little after four thirty – they’ve already checked in online, but they don’t know what security will be like, so they reluctantly agree that it’s better to arrive a little too early. Ben still helps them get their bags all loaded in the trunk of the car, and then he and Maria say their goodbyes as well, with hugs all around.

Rosamie keeps the conversation going the entire drive, telling them about places they’re passing or asking what they have planned in Sydney and for the rest of the trip. Bellamy’s still a little subdued, so Clarke takes charge of their side, with the occasional input from him.

When they get to the airport, Danilo pulls into a parking spot and turns off the car before they have a chance to tell him he doesn’t have to. Both he and Rosamie get out of the car, Danilo going to the trunk to get their bags out while Rosamie grabs Bellamy by both hands and tugs him closer for what feels like a private conversation. Clarke goes to help Danilo instead, trying her best to not listen in.

A few minutes later, she sees them hug out of the corner of her eye, and decides it must be safe. She gives Danilo a hug, thanking him for everything and promising to stay in touch, and then turns to Rosamie.

The older woman is smiling, even though Clarke can see that there must have been some tears shed during her talk with Bellamy.

“Thank you for helping our boy find his way home,” she says, wrapping her arms around Clarke.

She returns the hug tightly, trying to ignore the thought that, in a few months, she’ll have to deliver the horrible news that the grandson Rosamie only just got back is gone.

“I’m so glad I could,” she says. “Thank you for giving him this week, I know it means the world to him.”

“And to us.”

With a final squeeze and a kiss to Clarke’s cheek, Rosamie lets her go, accepting the arm Danilo offers her. Bellamy appears at Clarke’s side, handing her a bag and squeezing her hand.

“Ready to go?” she asks, looking up at him.

He shakes his head. “Not really, but… yeah.”

“Remember – Ben set up that… scope thing on the computer,” Rosamie reminds them. “And you promised that we would talk often, I will not let you forget that.”

“Of course not,” Bellamy promises. “Saturday at eight in the evening, I’ve already set an alarm on my phone.”

They’re driving from Auckland to Matamata on Saturday, but it won’t be a problem to fit that two hour drive in at some point before that.

“And I’ll text Maria when… OK, not when we land in Sydney, because that’s at four in the morning here, but I’ll text her a little later tomorrow to let her know we got there OK,” Clarke promises. “And seriously, we post a ton of photos on Facebook, just ask someone to show you, you’ll be able to follow our whole trip.”

Rosamie just nods, looking like she’s tearing up again.

“We will,” Danilo says, putting an arm around his wife, apparently having noticed it too. “Now you need to go or you will miss the flight.”

It’s not strictly true, they can probably linger for a little longer, but it’s time.

“Yeah, we should,” Bellamy agrees. He reaches out to squeeze Rosamie’s hand one last time. “Thank you for… just thank you.”

She squeezes back. “Thank you. We love you, _mahal_.”

“I love you.”

Clarke realizes that he might not be physically able to walk away, so she tugs him along in the direction of the airport, offering Rosamie and Danilo a final wave before they disappear from view.

Bellamy’s quiet as they drop their bags off, go through security and find their gate. Once they’re there, he basically deflates, slumping down in one of the uncomfortable airport chairs. Clarke takes a seat next to him and wraps herself around him as best as she can.

“You OK?”

“No.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t push, just stays where she is, offering what little comfort she can.


	45. You Can Feel the Light Start to Tremble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, lots of feeling after the last chapter… and this one includes the meeting with Roan, so more coming up, I’m afraid! Hope you like it anyway
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100 
> 
> Chapter title from “If I Lose Myself” by OneRepublic
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

They only have to wait for half an hour or so before their flight starts boarding, and when they ask all first and business class travelers to proceed to the gate, Clarke pulls Bellamy to his feet.

He gives her a questioning look. “We flying first class now?”

“No, but business,” she replies with an innocent smile. “It was the only available seats this late, honest.”

He just shakes his head and helps her get her backpack on, but there’s an amused smile on his face. “Sure it was. I’m not complaining. I’m guessing they have better toilets up there too.” He pauses, glancing around before leaning closer to whisper in her ear. “More space in there can’t hurt, right?”

His words send shivers through her, even though she has to admit that their… tentative plans for this flight have completely slipped her mind. She honestly decided to go for the business seats because she knows the seats recline all the way and she’s hoping they’ll be able to get some sleep.

She doesn’t let that on, though. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be… in the mood for that after today,” she admits, which would have been true if she had thought about it.

Bellamy doesn’t respond for a moment, as they give the girl at the desk their boarding passes and passports. Once they’re in the jet bridge, though, he shrugs. “It sucked, saying goodbye to them. Even more since I know I won’t see them again, which they think, but… I’ll be able to talk to them, at least, which is going to be really nice. Plus, we still have a lot of trip left, and I want to enjoy it. I’m not saying I won’t get in a funk about it at some point, but I’m trying to put it behind me for now at least.”

Clarke reaches out to take his hand and squeeze it. “Good, I want you to have a good time. And any time you feel a… funk coming on, you know I’m here.”

She’s still sort of waiting for a big breakdown, but she’s starting to think it might not be coming. But a family related funk, that she can handle.

“I do know that.”

They get their bags stowed away and then sit down as the plane slowly fills to about half. Bellamy gives her a look when the flight attendant starts the safety demonstration and only four other seats in their area are taken. They’re in the first row, with the bathrooms just in front of them, and she’s actually liking their chances of maybe getting away with this. The galley, where the cabin crew will probably be most of the time, is at the other end of the business class area, so as long as they’re discreet, it should be fine.

As soon as they’ve reached cruising altitude, they’re served dinner, and once the trays have been collected again, the lights dim and, as Clarke suspected, the cabin crew disappear to the galley behind them, pulling the drape closed.

There’s nobody else in their row of seats, only a middle aged couple one row behind and on the other side of the plane, the middle seats between them, and two business men, by the looks of it, in the third row.

They’ve reclined their seats and are basically cuddling under both of their blankets, both wordlessly agreed to give it a little while, so the other passengers will have time to – hopefully – fall asleep. After half an hour or so, someone in the third row starts snoring, and when she pushes herself up a little to be able to look across the aisle, she can see that the couple are both wearing eye masks, so even if they’re not asleep, they won’t see anything. Which means at least three out of four.

Bellamy seems to have reached the same conclusion, and her heart rate immediately increase when he inches closer, one warm hand on her stomach.

“So…” he starts, voice low. “How do you want to do this?”

She turns onto her side, again grateful for the almost roomy seats, and he mirrors her position, so they’re face to face. His hand moves slightly, one finger just dipping inside the waistband of her pants.

“I’m thinking maybe some… prep-work out here,” she replies, just as quietly. “I honestly don’t want to be in there for longer than absolutely necessary. But we can’t be too obvious about it either.”

He leans in for a kiss, innocent enough, and then pulls back before slipping his hand inside her pants and underwear.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, voice already a little husky. “I don’t think the cabin crew will come out unless someone pushes their call button, or they need to use the bathroom themselves, but we can’t be sure about that. And everyone probably won’t sleep, so… discretion is key.”

“Exactly,” Clarke manages to get out, still keeping her voice down, just before he slides one finger between her folds. She bites her lip to keep her face from making it obvious what they’re up to, and then moves closer, tucking herself under his chin so she’s more or less hidden from view. If someone were to pass them, it’ll probably look like they’re both asleep.

“Shit,” he murmurs, teasing her clit briefly before pushing a finger inside her. “You’ve been thinking about this, huh? You’re so wet.”

“Mm-hm.” She has been thinking about it, ever since he brought it up in the boarding line. Trying to shift the blankets as little as possible, she wraps her hand around him as well as she can, considering he’s wearing khaki shorts, but she doesn’t want to undo the button to get her hand inside. He’s already half-hard and hisses a little at her touch. “Quiet,” she reminds him, pressing a kiss to his chest through his t-shirt.

His reply is to add another finger, curling both slightly to hit the perfect spot, and she has to squeeze her lips together to keep quiet herself.

Considering the extenuating circumstances, they don’t try to draw things out. Bellamy gets her off in maybe five minutes, her fingers digging into the seat beneath her as the waves crash over her, and then slides his hand out of her pants.

“Bathroom?” he whispers against her hair, and she releases him to pull back.

“I’ll go first, wait a minute and then follow me,” she says. “Knock once.”

He just nods as she slips out from under the blanket and climbs over him.

Clarke’s pretty sure nobody’s passed their seats since the lights were dimmed, even if she was a little preoccupied for a while, but when she sees that all four lavatories are unoccupied, it’s still a relief. She glances back at the cabin, confirming that the other business class passengers are indeed asleep, or at least have their seats reclined and their eyes closed, and making sure none of the cabin crew are in view, then slips inside the lavatory closest to their seats.

It might be the longest minute of her life, waiting in the cramped little bathroom. When the single, low knock finally comes at the door, she hurriedly slides it open to let Bellamy inside. He closes the door behind him and locks it again, turning the lights on.

“Nobody saw you?” she asks, reaching out to undo the button in his pants.

He shakes his head and takes over, getting his shorts undone and pushing them down along with his boxers. She steps closer, wrapping her hand around him fully and pulling him down for a kiss, feeling his hands go to her hips to push her pants and underwear down.

“Turn around?” he suggests when they break the kiss. “I don’t really want to try to get you up onto that sink.”

Clarke nods in agreement, turning so she’s bracing herself against the wall behind the toilet. She closed the lid earlier, and makes sure to keep her hands as far from the flush button as she can, so they won’t accidentally draw attention to themselves.

Her pants and underwear are around her knees, and she’s not particularly keen on pushing them down further, so she spreads her legs as much as she can. She feels Bellamy move in behind her, his dick hard against her butt.

“Not the best position,” he notes in her ear, sliding a finger inside her briefly, to make sure she’s still ready for him, she assumes, though when he thinks she might have stopped being wet, she has no idea.

“Come on,” she replies, pushing back against him, and he chuckles quietly.

“So bossy.” But he does shift so he’s positioned at her entrance and then pushes inside her, burying a groan against her neck. “Fuck.”

“Yes, please,” she breathes out.

He presses his mouth against her throat, his breath hot against her skin, and starts moving, short but hard thrusts that soon have her biting her own arm to keep from making any sound.

Clarke wasn’t expecting to get off in here, honestly, and considering he made her come on his finger earlier, she’s pretty sure Bellamy wasn’t either. Still, when he comes apart inside her after only a few minutes, he finds her clit with one rough finger and pushes his other hand under her shirt and bra to twist her nipple, and she falls over the edge on the aftershocks of his orgasm.

They stay still for a moment, both catching their breath, and then he steps back and slips out of her. “OK, that was… yeah, fucking amazing.”

She lets out a low chuckle at his words before pulling her underwear and pants up and turning around. “Ready to see if we got away with it?”

He pales a little at her words but nods anyway. “Not like we can stay in here for the next six hours.”

There’s nobody by the lavatories, though, and the only thing that’s changed in the business class area is that the other business man has started snoring as well.

They get settled in their seats again, in basically the same position as before. Bellamy looks a little shell shocked, almost.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” he mumbles.

“But in a good way, right?” Clarke asks, pulling the blanket up as far as it can go. It’s almost ten, Manila time, which means midnight in Sydney, so if they’re lucky, they can get five or six hours of sleep before they land.

“A great way,” he replies, suppressing a yawn. “Sleep?”

“Mmm, yeah, good idea.”

And they actually do manage to fall asleep, waking up to a flight attendant shaking Bellamy’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, we’re about to land in Sydney,” she says with a professional smile when they blink up at her. “I have to ask you to put your seats in the upright position for landing.”

“OK, thank you,” Bellamy replies, rubbing his eyes.

They do as they’re asked and then doze until the plane actually touches down.

Their hotel is a short walk from the CBD, with views of the harbor and opera house, and once they’ve found a cab, it’s only a twenty minute drive.

“Sleep some more or explore now and go to bed early?” Clarke asks when they’re checked in.

Bellamy glances at his watch – ten to eight. “Maybe a couple of hours sleep? Assuming we’re doing general sightseeing before the boat ride, it’s not like many places will be open for another two hours anyway.”

“Good thinking.”

So she sets her alarm for ten thirty and pulls the curtains closed before crawling between the sheets. He joins her a moment later, sliding one arm around her waist to pull her closer until her back’s pressed up against him.

“Did the blonde flight attendant give you a funny look when we were getting off the plane?” he asks.

“What? No.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I thought maybe she knew what we were up to and wanted to, I don’t know… let us know she knew.”

She can’t help a chuckle. “I think the more likely explanation is that she thought you were hot and was appreciating the view.”

“Right…”

“Or she did hear us, but so what? It’s not like we’ll ever see her again.”

“True.”

She slides her hand over his and interlaces their fingers. “Now be quiet so I can sleep.”

When her alarm goes off two hours or so later, Clarke’s alone in the bed and the sound of the shower is coming from the bathroom. She turns the alarm off and goes to open the curtains and let some light into the room before flopping back onto the bed and waiting for her turn in the shower.

The bathroom door opens ten minutes later and Bellamy emerges, wearing a pair of sweatpants and toweling his hair dry. A smile spreads on his face when he sees that she’s awake. “Morning. Sleep OK?”

“I did, yeah,” she confirms. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Yeah, I just woke up, like, five minutes before the alarm was going to go off, so I figured I might as well get a head start in the shower.”

He sits down next to her on the bed and she steals a kiss before getting to her feet. “Let me just take a quick shower too and then we can go in search of breakfast.”

They leave the hotel twenty minutes later with recommendations for a coffee shop just across the street which turns out to have wonderful breakfast.

When they’re both pleasantly full of eggs and pancakes, they set their sights on the CBD, through the park surrounding the art gallery and past St Mary’s Cathedral with the Sydney Tower in the background. They stroll around the area around the harbor more or less aimlessly, taking a closer look at the opera house and the bridge in the distance.

“You don’t regret not going for the bridge climb?” Clarke asks when they’re sitting on a bench overlooking the water, taking a short break. “There might still be spots available while we’re here.”

Bellamy shrugs next to her. “You’re the one who suggested it, it seemed unnecessary to spend that much money on something I’m not really interested in doing.” He glances at her. “Unless you really want to.”

“Nope, I’m good,” she assures him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “It was just listed on most websites I found when I googled ‘things you can’t miss in Sydney’, so I wanted to suggest it.”

They return along the quay a few minutes later and continue their exploration, grabbing some coffee and a bagel around mid-afternoon. They’re on their way to the harbor for their sunset dinner cruise some time later when Clarke pauses.

“Something wrong?” Bellamy asks, coming to a stop himself.

“No, just…” She glances at her watch. “We’re not in a hurry, do you mind making a brief pit stop?”

He’s still frowning at her. “Of course not…”

“Come on.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along down the street they just crossed. As she thought, they find the building she expected half a block down. “Sydney’s Soul Keeper building. Or one of them, I guess.”

“OK… you know someone here you want to say hi to, or…”

She glances up at him. “Probably, but I figured we could see if anyone knows where Roan lives.”

That makes Bellamy freeze – not that he was moving to begin with, but she knows him well enough by now that she can pick up on the minute change in his posture. “Roan, right, that’s the guy who tried to…”

“Yeah,” Clarke takes over when he trails off. “Raven hasn’t been able get a hold off him so either he’s not using his phone anymore, or he doesn’t want to talk to people, and she couldn’t find an address either, but he is stationed here, so someone has to know where he lives.”

He nods thoughtfully. “To be honest, I had kind of forgotten about him.”

“We don’t have to…” She pauses, tries to find the right words. “Do you not want to talk to him? I mean, I sort of got the impression you were just humoring me when we talked about it, and we really don’t have to, but I just… he’s probably the person with the most knowledge about all of this, it seems like a waste to not at least talk to him.”

Bellamy’s quiet for so long she almost nudges him, just to make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep standing or something. Finally, though, he lets out a long breath. “When we talked about it, I was… yeah, I was kind of just agreeing because I knew you wanted to do this, but… let’s at least meet with him. Like you said, it’d be a waste to be here and _not_ look him up.”

She reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”

“So how do we do this? Does this place have a… reception or something?” He tries to see in through the frosted door to the building.

“No, it’s basically just an apartment building,” Clarke explains. “I just wanted to make sure I knew where it was, I figured we could see if someone’s coming or going when we’re in the area.”

He gives her an amused look. “Great plan.”

She elbows him in the ribs. “Shut up.”

They can’t really hang around too long, though, but to her relief – and surprise – the door opens just a minute or so later, and a woman who looks vaguely familiar emerges.

Clarke quickly puts on a smile and is rewarded with one in return, polite at first but then a little warmer when the woman probably realizes that she’s another Keeper.

“Hi,” Clarke greets. “My name’s Clarke, I think we must have met at some point but I’m afraid I don’t actually remember when…”

The woman lets out a short laugh. “Don’t worry, I know the feeling – faces do sort of start bleeding together after a few decades. I’m Lorelei, it’s nice to meet you.”

Clarke joins in the laugh. “They do. Nice to meet you, Lorelei.”

“Are you new in town, or…?”

She glances at Bellamy, who’s stayed a little behind her during the conversation. “No, we’re actually just visiting for a few days.”

Her use of the plural pulls Lorelei’s attention to Bellamy, and Clarke can see the moment she spots his Number – 68 today. She’s been avoiding looking at it lately, because it hurts a little more each day.

“I see. I hope you have a nice stay then.” She frowns. “Are you visiting someone in the building?”

“Not exactly. We’re actually looking for Roan King.”

Realization dawns on Lorelei’s face. “Of course. He doesn’t live here, but you should be able to find him… today is Monday, so he’ll be at Balmoral Beach. He lives in a motorhome, moves around every day, but he has a schedule. He should be at Bondi tomorrow and… I don’t actually know other than that, but I can check with a friend, he should have a better idea, they’re closer than I am with Roan. He might even be able to get in touch with him, if you want.”

“We’re actually going to Bondi Beach tomorrow morning anyway, so we can check there first, and maybe get in touch with you if we don’t find him?” Clarke suggests.

“Absolutely.” Lorelei pulls a notepad from her bag and writes down her phone number on a page in it before ripping it out and handing it to Clarke. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding him, just look for the largest RV you can find. There are usually at least a couple of surfboards somewhere around, and he has a dog.”

Clarke puts the phone number in her pocket and offers Lorelei a smile. “Thank you so much. I assume you were on your way somewhere, and we’re actually heading down to the harbor to do a boat tour, so…”

“I do need to get going, yes,” Lorelei agrees, glancing at Bellamy again, her eyes darting to his forehead. “I hope Roan can… I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Clarke just nods, and Lorelei offers her another smile before turning away.

She watches the other Keeper walking away for a moment, before resolutely turning to Bellamy. They’ll meet Roan tomorrow and he’ll have an idea or he won’t. She’s not going to let worrying about it ruin the rest of their day. “Come on, we should get going.”

Bellamy seems to have reached the same conclusion, because he quickly starts talking about the upcoming boat tour with an excitement that soon has her smiling again.

They find the dock and their boat without trouble, and by the time the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky all different shades of pink and purple, they’re in the middle of the harbor, enjoying a delicious three course meal.

Which feels like a good end to their first day in Sydney.

-100-

Their surf lesson the next day isn’t until noon, so they don’t have to get up early, but since they were both fast asleep by ten thirty, it’s no wonder they’re up and about by eight in the morning.

“Do you want to just grab breakfast and head over there?” Clarke asks when she’s scrolled through her entire Facebook feed, Instagram and the news. And it’s only nine o’clock.

“Yeah, why not?” Bellamy agrees. “We can check out the beach first, or see if we can find Roan.”

So they pack one of their backpacks with towels and their swimming suits before going across the street for breakfast again, and then catch an Uber to Bondi Beach.

Which means they have about two hours to themselves before the actual surfing lesson.

The Uber drops them off at the start of the car park, and Clarke shields her eyes with her hand, trying to see if she can spot a huge RV with surfboards and dog stuff.

“Come on, let’s just walk along the parking lot,” Bellamy suggests, interlacing their fingers and pulling her along.

When they get to the boardwalk, though, they still haven’t found the RV – there are a bunch of minivans and SUVs and jeeps with surfboards strapped to the roofs, the front, the back, and even a trailer that’s seen better days, but no RV.

“Maybe he’s not here yet,” she says, not quite disappointed but… a little anxious. She was hoping to get it over with, whatever _it_ ends up being.

“I think there’s another parking lot up ahead,” he replies, nodding in that direction.

So they continue along the beach until they reach the end of the boardwalk and, sure enough, there’s the RV Lorelei told them about. She did say it was big, but Clarke’s still not quite prepared for the monstrosity they find. Size wise, it’s more bus than RV, taking up five parking spots and then some. On the side facing the lawn, there’s a huge TV and what looks like built in speakers under an awning, along with one of those hammocks with stands.

“Do we, like… knock or something?” Bellamy asks, frowning.

“I guess,” she agrees, ducking under the awning to approach the door to the RV. She knocks twice and waits.

“Maybe he’s out surfing,” Bellamy suggests when they haven’t had a response in a minute. “Really, how long can it take to get from one end of that to the other? And I don’t hear a dog either, so…”

“Maybe, yeah.”

There are some surfers out in the water, catching what waves there are, so they cross the parking lot and head down the closest set of stairs to the beach and sit down on one of their towels a few feet away, so as not to miss him when he goes back to his RV.

Clarke looked Roan up after Raven mentioned him – he doesn’t have any social media presence himself, but the local Soul Keeper organization has a Facebook page, and they had posted some photos of the local members where she found him – so she knows who to look for.

The dog finds them first, in the end, barreling out of the surf and barking happily before flopping down in the sand in front of them, spraying them with salty water.

“I apologize, he can be a little… enthusiastic.”

The voice pulls Clarke’s attention from the animal in question to the man standing over them, long hair in a ponytail, surfboard under one arm. His eyes widen slightly in recognition.

“Hi, Roan,” she greets him with what feels like a weak smile.

He scrutinizes her for a moment, before smiling back. “Clarke, right?” When she nods, he continues. “We were in New York at the same time in the mid-nineties, weren’t we?”

It’s more than Clarke remembers, but if he says so, it’s probably true. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Yes. I don’t think we… ran in the same circles, but I do remember going to at least one of Raven’s infamous parties.”

“That must be it.” Bellamy shifts next to her, petting the dog who’s flopped onto his back, reminding her of why they’re here. “Roan, this is my boyfriend, Bellamy. Bellamy, Roan King.”

Bellamy looks up and Clarke watches as Roan freezes slightly. “Ah.”

“Good thing we don’t even need to say anything, huh?” Bellamy says, shooting Clarke a smirk.

“Really saves time, yeah.”

Roan looks around them for a moment. It’s not technically summer, so the beach’s definitely not as crowded as it could be, but there’s still a lot of people around.

“Why don’t we go back to my place,” he suggests. “Talk in private.”

Clarke nods and lets him help her to her feet, grabbing Bellamy’s hand when they follow Roan across the sand.

There’s a completely new feeling inside her, like nothing she’s ever experienced before. Part of her is anxious, eager to find out what Roan has to say, because maybe, just maybe, he can actually help. But a larger part doesn’t want to be anywhere near here, wants to just turn on her heel and run until she can’t run anymore. She has to physically stop herself from actually doing it, squeezing Bellamy’s hand so hard she’s probably cutting off his circulation. He doesn’t say anything, but rubs the back of her hand with his thumb in what would normally be a soothing motion.

Roan unlocks the RV and holds the door open for them before following them inside.

She’s sure the inside of the RV is just as luxurious as the outside, but all she really registers is the plush leather armchair Roan leads her to. Bellamy keeps hold of her hand and sits down next to her, and Roan claims another armchair across from them.

“So, no, I don’t need to ask why you’re here,” he starts. “But I can’t help you.”

She had been expecting that, but actually hearing it still makes Clarke’s ear buzz and she barely hears Bellamy when he speaks.

“Can you maybe talk us through your ideas, at least? The ones you ended up not trying to do something with.”

“Of course. As I’m sure you already know, we decided that the best chance we had would be to cross the date line in such a way that we went directly from the date before my girlfriend’s DOD to the date after it, theoretically skipping that particular date completely, which didn’t work. We had a few other ideas that we disregarded along the way, one of which was trying to… reset her Number, I suppose, by stopping her heart and then starting it again.”

Clarke looks up at him abruptly. “Could that work?”

He offers her a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid someone did try that one a few years ago, with no luck. Best case scenario, you get the heart beating again and the person lives out the remainder of their days as if nothing happened, worst case… well, cardiac arrest and oxygen deprivation can cause serious brain damage quickly, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

She deflates again, slumping back in the chair.

“I thought you might be able to simply postpone it,” Bellamy says. “I understand that you can, theoretically, avoid a specific time and cause of death, so I figured if you just kept doing that until midnight, maybe that would… reset it, like you said.”

Roan considers that for a moment. “It’s certainly a theory, one we did consider but ultimately decided against, since you can’t affect the COD, and hers was heart failure. As far as I know, nobody’s been able to postpone it enough to reach midnight. But perhaps if the original time of death is close to it, it might be possible.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“How many times has someone been able to postpone it?” Clarke pipes in, because she hasn’t had a chance to look that up herself since Bellamy mentioned it.

“I think the most I’ve heard is three times,” Roan replies. “After which, the person in question died from some sort of medical issue.”

Bellamy nods, as if this confirms his theory. “That’s the problem, that you can’t affect medical causes.”

“Exactly.” Roan pauses, looking between them. “You want my opinion? Let this go. There’s nothing you can do, don’t waste time trying to find a solution that isn’t out there. If I could go back… let’s just say I wouldn’t spend a year and a half trying to come up with ways to trick fate. I would try to make the most of the time we did have.”

For some reason, his assumption that they’re doing that ruffles Clarke. “We’re not, actually,” she almost snaps, feeling Bellamy squeeze her hand. “Raven was looking into it and suggested talking to you, but we’re not on some… wild goose chase for the Holy Grail or something.”

Roan holds up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “My apologies. I just assumed, since you were here…”

“We’re actually doing a round the world trip,” Bellamy tells him. “Started in Iceland back in January, continuing to New Zealand on Friday and then… Bora Bora, South America and the classic American road trip. You just happened to be at one of our stops and we figured it couldn’t hurt.”

Roan’s quiet for a long moment before he speaks again. “Then you’re doing this the right way,” he finally says, a sad smile on his face and a wistful tone to his voice. “And I hope you enjoy the rest of your time together.”

“Don’t worry,” Clarke tells him. “We plan to.”

They say their goodbyes and leave the RV. She can feel Roan’s eyes on her as they cross the parking lot again and doesn’t allow herself to slump down in the sand until she’s sure they’re out of his line of sight.

Bellamy sits down next to her and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. “You OK?”

She lets out a watery laugh. “Me? You’re the one who…” She trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“But the thing is, I wasn’t expecting this to lead to anything,” he tells her, and she pulls back enough to be able to look at him.

He looks… calm. Not upset, not even resigned, which she might have expected, but simply calm.

“I honestly didn’t think I was either,” she admits. “But obviously…”

“It’s only human,” he says with a half-smile. “Honestly, in a way, it’s a relief to have it over, because it feels like we can let it go now.”

She immediately feels guilty, wondering if this has been hanging over his head since Raven told her about Roan.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to… I don’t know, honestly, but whatever it’s been doing, I’m sorry.”

Bellamy actually laughs at that. “Don’t worry, it’s not like it’s been taking up a big part of my mind or anything, but it has been… it’s been there, you know? Like when there’s something at your periphery that you can’t quite see.”

“Then I’m glad that’s gone.”

He leans in for a quick kiss. “Me too. Now let’s go surfing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	46. Sometimes We Break so Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the aftermath of the talk with Roan coming up here… kind of an emotional chapter, or at least parts of it. The chapter title is a hint of what’s waiting…
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Wildfire” by SYML

Of course, they still have almost an hour before their surfing lesson, so they take off their shoes and stroll along the beach, testing the water and buying ice cream from a street vendor.

By the time they meet their surf instructor, Clarke’s feeling almost back to normal, even looking forward to the experience. She’s honestly gotten almost scarily good at compartmentalizing and pushing the whole situation with Bellamy’s Number to the back of her mind in the last few months.

Bellamy takes to surfing basically immediately, a natural, while she still can’t stay on her feet for more than a second or two at the end of their two hour lesson.

“You had fun, though, right?” Bellamy asks when they’re seated at a table outside a restaurant right by the beach.

“I did, absolutely,” she assures him. “I just don’t have great balance, it’s not news.”

“Good,” he says with a smile, before popping a few fries into his mouth. They both eat in silence for a while before he clears his throat. “Listen, I know that the meeting with that Roan guy wasn’t what you were hoping for…”

He pauses and she swallows down her food. “You wanted to let it go, I get that,” she replies. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I assume we can find out what’s… what’s going to happen once we get closer, and if the time and cause work out, we can try to postpone it, like we talked about, but until then… what was it you said, when we were planning the whole thing back in New York? Focus on the trip, try to forget… everything else.”

It’s what she’s been doing ever since, really, so it shouldn’t be hard to agree to, but it still feels like giving up. Not that there’s anything else they can do, not right now. She’s sure that Raven will let them know if she finds something, or comes up with a theory of her own, but the best thing they themselves can do right now is really to just follow Roan’s advice and enjoy the time they have together.

So she nods, even manages a small smile. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” He reaches over to squeeze her hand and she squeezes back.

He changes the subject and they talk about their surfing experience while they finish their lunch. When all the food’s gone, they head back to the city, just stopping by their hotel to shower and change before returning to the opera house. There isn’t a show they really want to see playing while they’re here, so instead they have a tour of the opera house itself booked, followed by dinner at the Opera Bar after. It’s interesting, learning more about the building, its architecture and history, and getting to see areas that are normally off limits for visitors. And the food is delicious, no doubt about it, and made even better by the view of the bridge twinkling in the distance, the lights from the city reflecting in the now dark water.

After some research, Clarke decided on Taronga Zoo instead of the more famous one in the city, so on Wednesday morning, they hop on the ferry to cross the harbor and spend the morning strolling around the lush park.

“It would’ve been nice to be able to see them in the wild,” Bellamy notes when they’re watching the kangaroos.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “There are bushwalks we could go on, but as always with animals, they can’t promise anything, so this felt safer. But we could look into that too, if you want? Or just rent a car and drive ourselves, I know the Blue Mountains are only two hours or so away. Even if we don’t see any animals, I bet the scenery’s amazing.”

He thinks it over for a moment. “That would be fun, but don’t we already have plans tomorrow?”

“Just the dinner at Sydney tower in the evening, but if we try to leave early, we should be back in plenty of time.” She moves in a little closer and his arm goes around her shoulders immediately. “Other than that, I just thought we could go to the botanical garden, but getting out of the city would probably be more fun.”

“Yeah. Do you think we could get a guide at such short notice? I mean, I know we’re fit and all, but we don’t know the area at all. Google Maps is awesome, but I would feel better if we had someone who’s familiar with the place with us.”

Clarke pulls her phone out of her pocket and googles ‘blue mountain hikes’. “Let’s check right away.”

She opens the first link she finds to a company that does hikes, checks what they offer – everything from easy hikes for a couple of hours to full weeks in the bush – and copies the phone number listed so she can call it.

The woman who picks up is more than happy to help, and when she hangs up half an hour later, they’re booked in on a three and a half hour hike in something called Valley of the Waterfalls, which sounds nice.

“OK, all done!” she announces. “We’re getting picked up at the hotel at seven thirty in the morning, and we’ll be back around two thirty in the afternoon. Perfect timing.”

“Awesome,” Bellamy says. “Come on, we still have the koalas left.”

They continue exploring the different enclosures, grabbing some lunch when they get hungry, and then take the ferry back across the water.

They take their time on their way back to the hotel, cutting through the botanical garden to at least have a look at it. Still, they’re back in their room by late afternoon, the setting sun already painting the sky in different colors outside the window. Bellamy immediately flops onto the bed and lets out a long breath.

“Think we can get someone to deliver food to the room?” he asks, and Clarke sits down next to him with a chuckle. “I really don’t feel like leaving this bed again today.”

“We can try,” she says, sliding her fingers into his hair. He leans into the touch, and she scratches his scalp a little. “If not, I can just go grab something to go at one of the restaurants nearby, no problem.”

He smiles without opening his eyes. “Best girlfriend ever.”

She laughs but pulls away to be able to change out of her jean shorts. When she pulls them off, a piece of paper flutters to the floor and she leans down to pick it up. It’s the receipt from their lunch yesterday, the name of the restaurant printed across the top of the paper.

“The Bucket List…” she reads aloud.

“Huh?” Bellamy asks, opening one eye to look at her.

“Just the place we had lunch at yesterday,” she tells him, pulling on her comfy pants before joining him on the bed again. “Have you thought any more about that?”

That gets him to open the other eye and give her a confused look. “About the place where we had lunch yesterday? Not really. I mean, their burger was great, but…”

“No, I mean… _your_ bucket list,” she clarifies, hating the way his face falls when he understands what she means. “Remember, we talked about it in Greece, when we saw that bungee place, and you said something about Australia being the place if you want to do bungee jumping. Well… now we’re here.”

He rolls away from her, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to her. “I thought you didn’t want me to do any of those… bungee jumping, skydiving, adrenaline stuff?”

Clarke scoots across the bed so she can lean her chin on his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away, but he’s still tense, so she doesn’t try to wrap her arms around him. “No, but I also don’t want you to regret not doing something that you could have done later.”

He snorts at that. “Not like there’s that much _later_ left, so don’t worry about it.”

“You know what I mean. I just… I want you to get to do everything you want.”

“You know what I want?” Bellamy stands up so abruptly she almost falls forward, but she catches herself on the bed at the last moment. When she looks up at him, he’s facing her again, hands balled into fists at his side, eyes hard. “I want to walk my sister down the aisle. I want to spoil my nieces or nephews. I want to… finish my stupid degree and find out if I would actually be a good teacher. I want to be Miller’s best man when he and Jackson get married. Hell, _I_ want to get married, and have kids, and grow old, and not die at fucking thirty-one. You want a bucket list? There’s just one thing on it – to live. But I don’t get to do that, so what’s the point?”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, so for a long moment, they just stare at each other. Before she’s figured out anything to say that wouldn’t feel like a… platitude, he deflates before her eyes, sinking to his knees and burying his face against the bed.

Clarke shifts so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed and gently nudges him until he realizes what she wants and moves so his head is in her lap instead, his arms around her waist. His breath is hot against her thighs and she can tell that he’s crying, the tears soaking the material of her pants, but she just rubs his back with one hand and continues to scratch his scalp with the other, letting him get everything out.

She’s been trying to prepare for this, after all.

She’s not sure how much time passes, or when she starts crying herself, but eventually, Bellamy pulls back, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice a little hoarse.

“No,” she almost snaps, wiping at her own eyes, and he flinches. “Look at me.” She waits until he does before reaching out to cup his face in one hand. “Don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?”

He sniffles a little but nods. “I was honestly starting to think I just… wouldn’t, you know?”

She does, of course, even though he doesn’t specify what exactly it was that he thought he _wouldn’t_. “Sorry about being the catalyst, or something.”

He actually laughs at that, watery, but still. “No, I think I needed it, honestly. I haven’t been in denial or anything, but… yeah, I needed this.”

“Then good.”

She pulls him onto the bed with her and nudges him until he curls around her. He leans his head on her chest and lets out a sigh.

“Thanks. For just… being here, I guess.”

“Always.”

They stay like that for another long, indeterminable moment. Clarke would almost think he falls asleep, if it hadn’t been for the way his hand keeps trailing up and down her side and the occasional sniffle.

“You know…” she starts when she’s finally worked up the courage. “I bet we could tick a couple of those things off the list.”

Bellamy’s quiet for so long she starts to wonder if he either didn’t hear her or wants to just forget the whole thing altogether.

“How do you mean?” he finally asks, voice carefully neutral.

“Well, OK, so we can’t actually _tell_ Octavia and Lincoln to get married,” she replies. “But they’re planning on doing it eventually, right? And you’ve been thinking about asking her to come to New York when we get back. So we could maybe suggest that we want to help pay for their wedding if they want to have it there this summer.”

“Huh.” He pauses. “I guess that’s an idea.”

Clarke hurries to continue. “I know it might not work, but either way, I think you should at least ask her to come.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ve been sort of… trying to come up with a way to do that.”

“Good. I don’t know if that would work for Miller and Jackson too, what do you think?”

Like she hoped, it makes Bellamy chuckle. “No, I don’t think they’re quite there yet. But it’s OK, you don’t have to try to convince them or anything.”

“Good, I’m not sure I’d be any good at it, to be honest. I can’t really do anything about the school thing, unless you want me to, like, bribe them to give you your diploma. I totally would, but I don’t really think you want that.”

“No. But thanks for offering.”

“Any time. And Octavia having kids, well, even if we could get them to start… thinking about it, those things take time.”

“I know.”

Clarke takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how to put what she’s about to say. “And growing old…”

“No, I know,” he cuts her off with a squeeze of her hand. “I was just… lashing out.”

She doesn’t let it derail her. “But we could maybe… do something about the kids part.”

He goes completely still. “What kids part?”

“You know, there are… I don’t know, sperm banks? Or you can freeze… we don’t have a lot of time right now, and I obviously, you know, can’t, but I could look into, like, surrogacy or something. If… if you wanted that.”

Bellamy doesn’t respond right away, instead pushes himself into a sitting position so he can look at her. She makes herself meet his eyes, even though she would rather look anywhere else.

“You’d do that?” he then asks, voice unreadable, eyes intense.

She shrugs, breaking eye contact to focus on a loose thread on her sweater. “If it’s what you want. I actually… I thought about it, back when you told me about your ex, in college… it’s never been a thing for me, Soul Keepers can’t have kids, I get why, but I got so… jealous, I guess. That she got to have that part of you, even if it didn’t… something I would never get. So I thought about it, but in the end, I… I’m still me, I still won’t age, and I have to move every six or seven years, it’s not exactly a good environment for a kid. And the whole not aging thing would mean I’d still be me, like this, when the kid grew up, which… I don’t know how I could deal with that, if I could, but…” She forces her eyes back up to his. “If you want me to do that, I will, OK? Whatever you want to do, as long as it’s, you know, biologically possible, I’ll do.”

The look in his eyes has softened while she’s been talking, and now he shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

“That wasn’t… it’s not about biology or genetics or some… I don’t know, some primal instinct to reproduce or anything,” he tells her. “I just, I want to do everything you’re supposed to do in life, you know? But I want to do it all _with you_. So just…”

Clarke nods, doesn’t need him to finish the sentence. “I get it. But you could still run the New York wedding thing by Octavia, right?”

“I might, yeah,” he agrees with a chuckle. “At least throw some feelers out, see how she reacts.”

“Good.”

He moves against the headboard, pulling her in against him this time, and she comes willingly, leaning her head against his chest.

“Thank you, though,” he says after a moment. “Just knowing that you would even consider that, with… everything, it means a lot.”

“Of course.”

She doesn’t know why she doesn’t mention the two of them getting married. It was one of the things on his list, after all, and they could, if they wanted. If he wanted.

But he didn’t bring it up either, so she tries to push the thought away.

Even if they did get married, she’d be a widow in two months anyway.

She’s not sure it would be harder than just losing him as her boyfriend, but it can’t possibly be _easier_.

-100-

They end up finding a pizza place that delivers to the hotel, and after they’ve eaten, they’re both basically sleeping sitting up, so they call it a night even though it’s not that late.

By some miracle, when the alarm goes off at six thirty the next day, Clarke actually feels rested. Bellamy fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, a combination of crying and being emotionally drained, she supposes, and she wasn’t far behind, so they have gotten a full nights’ sleep, but still.

In a way, she almost expects something to have changed between them, but of course nothing has. There’s no awkwardness, no moment of avoiding each other’s eyes, trying to figure out how to interact after both of them poured their hearts out last night. Bellamy just rolls over after turning the alarm off, pulling her close and kissing her, long and slow.

“Morning,” he says when he finally pulls back.

“Morning,” she replies with a smile.

“Looking forward to a day in the wilderness?”

“I am, yeah.” She pauses, searching his face. “You? Feeling… OK?”

He doesn’t try to brush it off, thinks it over for a moment. “I think so, yeah. Like I said, it was good to get everything out.”

“Good. And you’ll talk to Octavia about New York and maybe about the getting married thing?”

“I will,” he promises. “But I don’t want to do it over text, so I’m waiting until our Skype session on Saturday.”

“It’ll be a real virtual family reunion on Saturday then, with your Skype plans,” Clarke notes with a smile.

He shrugs. “It was O that suggested Saturday, but I figured it would be best to get all calls… not over with, but done at the same time. New Zealand’s going to be pretty busy, after all.”

“It is,” she agrees, rolling onto her back and stretching. “OK, time to get up, we should probably get some breakfast to eat on the way there, it’s like a two hour drive.”

“And here I was just about to suggest having some fun before getting up,” Bellamy replies, though his voice is teasing.

She reaches out blindly to pat him and hits his forehead. “Tonight, promise.”

The drive isn’t too bad – they grab some bagels and coffee to go and eat that on the way, and bond with a young Japanese couple who are on their honeymoon and so cute together that Clarke has to look away now and then. She and Bellamy exchange looks whenever the couple does something particularly cavity inducing, but they’re fun to talk to.

The hike itself is amazing, of course – stunning scenery with the mountains, lush rain forest, and the breathtaking Katoomba Falls.

“This was a really good idea,” Clarke tells Bellamy when they’re on the trail back to their bus. “I’m glad we did it.”

They’re lagging a little behind, their group still in view some twenty yards ahead but nobody in hearing distance. He interlaces their fingers and squeezes her hand. “Me too, this place was… amazing doesn’t really cover it, but it’s all I’ve got.”

She chuckles a little. “I know what you mean.”

The rest of their group is waiting at a restaurant close to where they were dropped off earlier, and they all file into the place for an early lunch before heading back to Sydney. Both of them doze a little on the drive, and opt for a short afternoon nap before getting ready for their dinner at the Sydney Tower.

Since they wanted to catch the sunset from the tower, and the sunset is as early as five at this time of year, she made the reservation for five thirty, giving them a little time to check out the tower beforehand.

“I guess it’s not exactly the Burj Khalifa,” Clarke notes when they’re making their way around the perimeter of the observation deck.

“You can’t really compare them,” Bellamy replies with a shrug. “I mean, sure, we’re not as high up here, but the view is completely different.” He stops in front of one of the high windows. The park and cathedral are far below them, the natural harbor in front of them with the sea in the distance.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point,” she agrees, leaning against the window. “It is beautiful.”

“Yeah. That’s where we were yesterday, right?” he asks after a moment, pointing to a green peninsula sticking out into the water on the other side of the bay. “The zoo?”

She does a quick survey of the area and comes to the conclusion that he’s right. “Yeah, that’s it. And our hotel should be… somewhere over there. Come on, let’s check out the rest of the view before the sun sets.”

It’s mostly city views for half of the turn or so, the Pacific gleaming in the distance. Once they get to the west side, with the Opera house peaking up between buildings and the Harbour Bridge stretching across the water, the sun is already sinking towards the horizon.

“Good spot?” Bellamy asks when she pauses to watch it.

“Yeah,” she agrees with a nod, and feels him step closer behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his chin against her shoulder.

Just as when they watched the sunset at the Burj Khalifa, a sort of calm settles over the observation deck during the last few minutes before the sun finally dips below the horizon, everyone enjoying the natural spectacle behind the glass panes.

When the people around them start moving, talking and laughing again, Clarke shakes herself mentally. “Dinner?”

Bellamy’s arms tighten around her briefly and he nuzzles her hair a little before letting her go. “Lead the way.”

They both end up eating way too much at the buffet – there’s just so many things that look absolutely delicious. They obviously have to try the kangaroo, even if it feels strange considering they just saw some at the zoo yesterday, and then there’s an amazing selection of sushi, a bunch of different salads, mouthwatering garlic bread, emu chipolatas, and absolutely amazing truffle mac and cheese.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate this much,” Bellamy admits when they’ve both cleaned off their plates. “I mean, Christmas has nothing on this.”

Clarke leans back in her chair and sends out some gratitude to whatever power convinced her to dress up a little in one of her dresses, which is in a very forgiving elastic material, instead of pants. “I hear you,” she agrees. “I don’t think I can get a single bite more down.”

He gives her a calculating look. “So no dessert? I’m pretty sure I saw some sort of chocolate cake…”

She lets out a groan. “OK, I know I’ve said that there’s always room for chocolate, and I still stand by that, but this might be one of the exceptions that proves the rule.”

Still, they have forty minutes left of their reservation, and in the end, they do manage to at least taste a couple of the desserts that look particularly delicious.

“I guess we did get a lot of exercise today already,” Bellamy muses when they finally leave the tower. “But I still feel like we should walk back to the hotel to burn some of those calories.”

It’s fully dark now, the city lights having come alive while they were enjoying their dinner, which makes it feel much later than just a little after seven. Still, it’s a nice night for a walk.

“You know…” Clarke starts, sliding her hand into his and pulling him along in the right direction. “There are other ways to burn calories.”

He chuckles a little. “Is that your way of saying you want to get a cab?”

“No, we can still walk. Just… something to think about on the way.”

Judging by the way he pushes her up against the door to their hotel room the moment it closes behind them, he definitely does think about it.

-100-

In the heat of the moment, they forget to pack – not that they’ve unpacked all that much in the few days they’ve been here, but still – so it’s a bit chaotic when the alarm goes off at seven the next morning. They still manage to not miss the cab picking them up half an hour later, but it’s cutting it close. Luckily, they’ve already checked into their flight to Auckland, so all they have to do once they get to the airport is drop their bags and get through security, and then they can relax and grab a quick breakfast.

“So, Australia – rating from one to ten?” Clarke asks when they’re seated at a typical overpriced airport café, sipping their large coffees.

Bellamy thinks about it for a moment. “Probably an eight, but we did only see Sydney.”

“Did you want to do something else?”

He shrugs. “Not really, but it feels sort of like… whenever people talk about Australia, it’s usually Sydney, with the Opera House and Harbour Bridge and Bondi Beach, which we did, and then Uluru and the Great Barrier Reef.” She’s about to say something but he continues before she has a chance. “Which I could have put on the list if I wanted to go there, so don’t worry about it. I’m not really into the whole diving thing, to be honest. Snorkeling’s fine, but I don’t like going too deep under the surface. Not to mention that we’d have to get certified. And sure, Uluru would have been cool to see but… there are a lot of cool places we’re not doing, if we were going to every single one in the entire world, that would be… years, I’m pretty sure.”

She wants to say that they could have taken a couple of days to do Alice Springs and Uluru, but bites it back. “OK. Then I won’t tell you that we could have done Uluru if you wanted to and just… I’m glad you liked it, I’ve been to a couple of different cities and Sydney is definitely my favorite.”

“To be honest, I’ve been kind of looking forward to the _Lord of the Rings_ tours since we left Manila,” he admits with a sheepish smile, and she can’t hold back a laugh.

“Good thing they’re coming up then.”

The flight to Auckland is only three hours, but with the two hour time difference, it’s four thirty by the time they make it to their hotel near the harbor. They only do have one day here, though, so despite the sun being on its way down, they just get changed – it’s cooler here than it was in Sydney, but still not as cold as Clarke had thought it would be – and head out to explore the city.

Their hotel is on the corner of one of the main streets of the city, so they set off along it, soon swallowed up by the throngs of tourists and Aucklanders alike, out to enjoy what she quickly realizes is a Friday night.

“You know,” she starts when the thought strikes her. “I’m starting to lose track of the days a little. Not the dates, I’ve got those, since we have flights and stuff, but the day of the week. I didn’t realize it was Friday until just now.”

Bellamy chuckles next to her. “So what you’re saying is that we need to make the weekends more special?”

“It was really just an observation. Now that you mention it, though, the partying has been pretty lacking lately.”

In all honesty, they haven’t really gone out with the express intent to party since they visited Octavia in Dublin, even if there has been the occasional night out since then, and, not to forget, the big farewell party before they left the Philippines. Not that Clarke minds – she’d take a quiet night in with Netflix over a pub crawl any day, but still.

“So you want to go out dancing or something?”

The reluctance is so apparent in his voice that she can’t hold back a laugh. “ _You_ obviously do. Seriously, it was just an observation. I don’t mind quiet nights, you know that. Plus, I’m driving tomorrow, so no drinking for me tonight. At least not more than a beer or two.”

“Phew. So, stroll around a little, check out whatever there is to check out, find a nice place for dinner and then call it an early night?”

She squeezes his hand. “Early to bed, at least.”


	47. And Dream of the Ones Who Came Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was a lot of fun to write after the last few heavier ones. New Zealand and a LoTR tour is definitely on my own bucket list, and I wouldn’t mind a week or two in Bora Bora if I could afford it… a girl can dream, right?
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Into the West” by Annie Lennox, from “The Return of the King”, for obvious LotR references

Clarke has been to New Zealand before, back in the early nineties when she and Harper did a kind of tour of the area, with a few stops in Australia first. That was basically a city trip, though, apart from a couple of days in the Australian bush, and they spent a week each in Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch, so they never really got to experience the nature of the country. And, of course, that was before the big _Lord of the Rings_ craze, so she might not have appreciated it the same way anyway.

Now, though, it’s completely obvious, even during the three hour drive from Auckland to Rotorua, why this was picked as the location for the movies.

“This is amazing,” Bellamy notes quietly when they’ve been driving for an hour or so and are heading down a narrow road that cuts between rolling hills. “Even if I hadn’t seen the movies, this is what I would have imagined based on reading the books.”

“It is really cool,” Clarke agrees. “I mean, I was already looking forward to the tour tomorrow, and the other stuff we’re doing, but now I’m getting really excited.”

“Way ahead of you,” he replies with a half-smile. “This is going to be awesome.”

They’re booked into a country hotel by Lake Rotorua, closer to the airport than the movie set they’re visiting tomorrow, but since their flight on Monday is at ten in the morning, it made more sense.

Clarke hadn’t realizes just how remote the place was, though. She knows that the city of Rotorua is stretched along the southern bank of the lake, but that’s about a fifteen minute drive away, and all they’ve passed since they turned onto the road leading to the hotel are a handful of houses dotted here and there.

The view is absolutely stunning, though.

“Wow,” Bellamy breathes when they’ve parked and gotten out of the car.

On three sides of the hotel, the green rolling hills stretch as far as the eye can see, roads cutting through them here and there. Straight ahead, though, is the lake, painted a multitude of colors by the setting sun.

“Amazing,” she agrees.

The receptionist helps them make dinner reservations at a nearby restaurant after they check in, but that’s not for another two and a half hours, and Clarke’s kind of hungry now, so when they’ve checked out their room, she heads for the door again.

“I’m going to see if they have any food in the bar,” she tells Bellamy, who’s toed off his shoes and is leaning against the headboard with his phone in his hand. “You want anything?”

“Sure, if they have sandwiches or something, grab me one? Whatever looks good.”

“Will do.”

The hotel’s not huge, but it still takes her a little while to find her way to the onsite bar, and then ten minutes to get the food and another minute or so back to the room. When she opens the door, she immediately hears Octavia’s voice.

_“… so I told her, if you want my help, that’s fine, but if you’re just going to complain, I have better things to do.”_

Bellamy looks up with a smile when he hears the door close behind her.

“You called her without me?” Clarke asks, pouting a little.

_“Sorry, Clarke, my fault,”_ comes from the phone, and he hands it over at the same time as he mimes ‘no wedding’. _“We said around six and I have to get to my morning class in, like, ten minutes so I called him.”_

Clarke gives Bellamy a discreet nod, telling him she picked up on his warning, before focusing on Octavia on the screen. “Of course, I totally get it. So did he manage to convince you to come to New York when we get back?”

An expression that could probably be described as mischievous flashes across Octavia’s face before she smiles brightly. _“I think so, yeah. I just need to make sure I can take some time off, and that it’s OK with Lincoln, but barring any complications, we’ll be there.”_

“Great!”

They chat for a little longer before Octavia has to dash, and then Bellamy calls his grandmother as well and they talk to her and Danilo and Maria for almost an hour, telling them all about Sydney and what they’ve seen of New Zealand so far. When they hang up they still have half an hour before they need to leave for the restaurant, though, so they decide to explore the grounds a little. They find a donkey and some alpacas, and then lounge by the pool for a bit, Bellamy pointing out the constellations that are unique to the southern hemisphere.

“So you didn’t bring up the wedding thing to Octavia?” Clarke asks when he’s stopped talking, glancing sideways at him.

He shrugs – or at least as much as he can lying down. “It didn’t feel right. But she sounded excited about just coming to visit, so hopefully that’ll work out.”

“Good, I know you want to see her again.”

He sighs, long and deep. “Yeah, I do. I wish… I want more time with her, but I’ll take what I can get.”

She reaches out to find his hand in the darkness and squeezes.

“I know.”

-100-

It’s about an hour’s drive from their hotel to the Hobbiton Movie Set, but their tour isn’t until after one in the afternoon, so they can enjoy a nice, lazy breakfast looking out over the grounds and the lake in the distance. The drive is lovely too, all winding roads weaving through lush fields and rolling hills. It definitely gets them in the right mindset for the actual tour.

Which ends up being even more awesome than Clarke thought it would be, even having seen the photos on the official site. They start off with a buffet style lunch in a large marquee that looks like it could have been taken straight from Bilbo’s eleventy first birthday party, and then their knowledgeable – and excited – tour guide escorts them around the movie set.

“It’s like stepping into the actual movie,” Bellamy mumbles to her as they follow the rest of the group down a narrow lane. The hills around them are dotted with little round, colorful doors and windows, sheep grazing in the distance.

“I think that’s sort of the point,” she replies amusedly. “But it’s pretty cool, yeah.”

They get a chance to take some photos, pass the mill down by the small lake, and visit the Green Dragon Inn before they’re escorted back to the car park.

“We should have watched the movies before we came,” Bellamy half-grumbles when they’re back on the road. “It would have been so cool to be able to point out all the little details.”

“So we’ll watch them now,” Clarke says with a shrug. “The flight to Bora Bora is, like, a whole day, we can cram at least a couple of them in there, right?”

He snorts. “Funny, they’re not _that_ long.”

“ _The Hobbit_ is three movies,” she points out. “I mean, I probably wouldn’t have complained if they split _Lord of the Rings_ into two movies per book – those are long and I really missed Tom Bombadil – but three movies for _The Hobbit_? Seriously?”

“I’m not arguing with you!” he exclaims, chuckling.

They spend the hour it takes back to the hotel discussing everything they would have left out of _The Hobbit_ trilogy if they had been in charge, and everything they would have included in the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy if they could. It’s not really a surprise to her that they agree on almost everything, but it still makes something warm and soft settle in the pit of her stomach.

The next day is a lot of travelling again, since there’s no direct flight from Rotorua to Nelson and they have to go through Wellington with a bit of a delay. Even though they leave their hotel right after breakfast, they don’t arrive at their next stop until late in the evening. They’re only staying here for two nights, so she booked a hotel by the airport, since that’s where the helicopter tour they’re taking departs from, which means they at least don’t have a long cab ride when they finally make it off the plane.

“Please tell me we can just crash,” Bellamy says, flopping face first onto the bed.

“Good idea,” Clarke agrees, pausing long enough to kick her shoes off and get out of her jeans before joining him.

They do muster up enough energy to at least brush their teeth, and she remembers to set her alarm, but after that, they’re both out like lights.

They’re back at the airport at ten the next morning, a little bleary eyed but still excited about the day ahead.

They did watch the first move, _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , while they were waiting for their flight in Wellington, so the places they fly over and visit during the helicopter tour are a little fresher in their minds.

Clarke’s never been in a helicopter before, and while she knows she can’t die if she were to fall out of it, hitting the ground would still hurt like hell, so she thinks she’s perfectly reasonably slightly terrified when their pilot tilts the thing so they’ll be able to see better. Bellamy laughs a little at the way her fingers dig into his thigh, but he does wrap an arm around her as comfort as well.

“The door’s closed,” he points out through the headset. “And we’re wearing heavy-duty seatbelts. What exactly are you afraid will happen?”

Before she can come up with something, the pilot’s voice comes over the coms. “I assure you, you’re perfectly safe,” he says. “I’ve only crashed once in my life, and what are the odds of that happening again, eh?”

She’s not entirely sure if he’s joking or not, but he follows up with a proper belly laugh, so she decides that he must be.

As soon as they’ve leveled out and are flying over the Tasman Bay, she does relax a little. The scene below them is just too mesmerizing to focus on something else – the sea glittering far below, a deep blue right below them and lighter, almost turquoise closer to the sandy shore, beautiful, rolling hills and even a few snowcapped mountain peaks in the distance.

“Will there be snow today?” Clarke asks the pilot when she spots it. In the confirmation email she got when booking the tour, it did say that the end of May could mean snow in the mountains, and both she and Bellamy are wearing layers, with a couple of sweaters each and thin jackets.

“There was some snow last night,” the pilot replies as he turns the helicopter in a semicircle and starts heading back towards land. “Most of it’s probably melted away by now, but there might still be some.”

She manages to focus on the landscape below and around them until the pilot starts coming in for landing at their first stop. It feels like the mountain’s approaching much too fast and she can’t help burying her face against Bellamy’s shoulder until she feels the helicopter touch down. His arm tightens around her and she feels his lips press against the top of her head, can almost hear a whispered ‘you’re fine, Princess’.

“See, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” the pilot asks when he opens the door for them.

She still feels a little shaky, so she takes the hand he offers and lets him help her out of the helicopter.

“Not too bad, no.”

They get some time to explore what they can of the mountain peak they’re on – which is free from snow, though a higher peak some distance away is still covered in a thin layer – and then the pilot offers a thermos of coffee, and they sit and talk for a few minutes, listening to his stories of different tours he’s taken tourists on.

When they get back in the helicopter, Clarke resolutely squeezes her eyes shut before the pilot even starts the engine. “Let me know when we’re high enough,” she says. Both Bellamy and the pilot chuckle a little at her request, but she feels better, so she doesn’t really care.

The second stop is just as amazing as the first, and just like at the Hobbiton set the other day, it’s easy to imagine scenes from the movie coming to life – a hobbit coming over the rocky hills, an Elf arrow whizzing through the air, or the Orcs and their wargs storming over the plains below.

They land at the airport again around two in the afternoon, and stop by the hotel to get rid of some layers of clothing before heading into the city proper to explore a little.

Nelson’s not a big city, so even though the airport’s some ways out of town, it’s only a fifteen minute cab ride to the city center. They grab a late lunch before exploring the city, and end up strolling around well into the evening, checking out the different sights and interesting spots.

“What do you say, an early dinner and back to the hotel?” Bellamy suggests when they’ve gone full circle and are back at the city’s main attraction, its cathedral, which is lit up beautifully in the dark.

“Sounds good.”

Their flight leaves a little before one the next day, but they’ve done all the sightseeing they wanted and it doesn’t seem worth it to head into town again, so they enjoy a long breakfast and then just lounge around their hotel room until it’s time to head to the airport.

The flight to their last New Zealand stop, Christchurch, is barely an hour, and it’s only a twenty minute ride to their hotel in the center of the city, so they have a couple of hours to sightsee before the sun sets.

“That’s the downside of it being late fall here,” Bellamy notes as they watch the sun dip below the tree tops. They’re grabbing a coffee at a café by the botanical gardens, which still has tables and chairs set up outside, despite the temperature already dropping. “Short days.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a problem for a little while,” Clarke replies. “Until we get to Central America, I guess. On the other hand, if we’d been here in the middle of their summer, it would have been much hotter, so…”

“So we get to enjoy that when we get back to the US instead,” he finishes off her sentence, and she can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, Vegas in July, that’ll be fun.”

“It will be,” he agrees, sobering and offering her a smile. “It’s just that it’ll also be hot as hell. But this is the only way the trip would have worked, really.”

“Yeah, it is. Plus, the hotel will have AC and if there’s anywhere nobody will look twice if we walk down the street in just a bikini or swimming trunks, it’s Vegas.”

He chuckles a little at that. “Good to know.”

Clarke downs the last of her coffee. “Now come on, I want to check out the garden a little before they close.”

-100-

Thursday is another early day and they’re bundled up in a minivan with a few other tourists by nine in the morning, heading out of the city for another _Lord of the Rings_ experience. Clarke did consider not booking an actual tour from Christchurch and just driving around the countryside themselves, since there are a lot of resources online, but she’s insanely glad she talked herself out of that. It’s much nicer, being able to relax and admire the scenery, discuss what they’re passing with Bellamy and the other people in their group, and not have to worry about focusing on the road and making sure they’re on the right track.

It’s a long but fun and interesting day, with stops at the filming locations of Edoras – the actual town that was built for the movies is gone, of course, but they can still climb the hill and it’s not hard to picture it as it used to be – the Misty Mountains and Helm’s Deep. They enjoy a picnic lunch with breathtaking views of the surrounding countryside, and even get to check out a couple of props from the actual movie. She snaps a picture of Bellamy holding Aragorn’s sword, an almost awed look on his face.

“Imagining killing orcs?” she asks with a smile and he rolls his eyes.

“One of us has to,” he shoots back. “Come on, Princess, they could attack at any moment.”

“Obviously.”

They’re not back at their hotel until after six in the evening, both still buzzing slightly from the excitement of the day and unable to stay still, so they head out for some more exploration and dinner.

Their flight to Bora Bora isn’t until Friday afternoon, so they manage to squeeze in a trip on the Christchurch gondola, taking them to the peak of Mount Cavendish, in the morning.

“Good thing this one doesn’t have a glass floor, huh?” Bellamy notes with a smirk when the doors have closed behind them and their gondola is starting to move.

They’re sharing the gondola with a family with two kids who look to be maybe five and eight, so Clarke elbows him lightly in the side before leaning in. “Shut up.”

He just laughs and turns his attention to the view, which is absolutely amazing.

They don’t have a ton of time, though, so they just stroll around a little when they reach the summit, snapping some photos of the city below and the mountains and water surrounding them, before boarding another gondola to head back down.

“So, overall score for our _Lord of the Rings_ experience?” Clarke asks later in the afternoon when they’re waiting for their flight to be called. “I know there are other places we could have gone, but these were the ones that jumped out at me when I was looking into it.”

The smile on Bellamy’s face pretty much says everything she needs to know. “On a scale from one to ten, it’s been, like, a twelve. At least. Maybe twelve and a half.”

She shakes her head. “You’re way too easy to please.”

“Oh, you know it,” he replies, wagging his eyebrows, and she has to laugh.

“I definitely do.”

It feels like they should have gotten used to traveling by now, considering how much they’ve been doing it, but this is another one of those trips where they don’t really have a lot of flight time, but several stops and one long layover in Papeete in Tahiti. They do get to take a shower in the VIP lounge after they land, but even though it’s the middle of the night, neither of them get much sleep on the hard airport chairs. Which means they’ve basically been awake for…

“What time is it here again?” Clarke asks the man who picked them up at the airport.

“It is nine forty-five in the morning,” he replies with a knowing smile that tells her he’s used to the question. “On Friday May thirty-first.”

Bellamy frowns next to her. “How does that work, we left Christchurch at three in the afternoon on Friday.”

“We’ve crossed the dateline,” she tells him before hiding a huge yawn behind her hand. “And I’m too tired to figure out how long we’ve been awake, but it’s definitely at least twenty-four hours by now. Good thing I was more coherent when I made the hotel reservation, or we might not have a room until tomorrow.”

Their… driver? Captain? He did give them his name but Clarke clearly didn’t register it. Their host, anyway, has loaded their bags onto a trolley and is now leading them out of the airport building and towards the docks on the lagoon side of the small island.

“Do not worry,” he says with a smile over his shoulder. “Your bungalow is ready and waiting for you.”

“We’re going by boat?” Bellamy asks when he realizes where they’re going.

“Yes,” their host replies. “There are roads on the main island, but not many out here, so we go by boat.”

Within a few minutes, all three of them along with the bags have been loaded onto a sleek looking boat and they’re pulling away from the docks. It’s already warm, and the wind whipping against them is pleasant as they cut through the turquoise water.

Their host offers some information during the trip, pointing out the main island to their right and the outlying island, which their hotel is on, to their left. He gives them some more background on the area as well, and tells them about some excursions that the hotel can help them book, if they get bored of just relaxing.

It’s not long before Clarke spots the thatched roofs of their hotel in the distance, and she turns her attention to Bellamy, wanting to see his first reaction.

And it does not disappoint. When the boat slows and turns in between the rows of overwater bungalows, towards what she assumes is the main dock and reception area, Bellamy’s eyes widen almost comically, his jaw literally dropping.

“We’re staying _here_?” he half-whispers, as if he’s afraid it will turn out to be a joke if he’s too loud.

“We are,” she confirms, not fighting the smile that wants to spread on her face. “In one of those bungalows out there. You like?”

“I like? It’s… this is like… not even a dream, because I don’t think I could have come up with this in a million years if someone asked me, but seriously, this is… wow.”

The boat has come to a stop and their host helps them out of it and onto the dock. “Just go on in through there,” he tells them, gesturing at a building at the end of the docks. “Someone will help you get checked in, and I will make sure your luggage is waiting in your bungalow when you get there.”

“Thank you,” Clarke says with a smile, fishing a big tip out of her purse.

They get checked in without problem and are soon being led by a woman with an overly polite smile towards the farthest row of bungalows. She stops at one towards the end of the wooden dock, opening the door for them.

“Here you are. Your bags will be in the bedroom, and if you need anything, just call the reception at any hour.”

Clarke takes the key from the woman and then the door closes behind her and they’re alone.

“So… first thoughts?”

Bellamy lets out an incredulous snort. “It feels like I’m in some sort of alternate reality, I just… this isn’t something I get to _do_.”

She drops the key on the table and goes over to wrap her arms around him. “It is for the next week, OK?”

“It still feels surreal.”

“More than the Seychelles?”

He frowns a little at that. “Yeah, I’m not sure why…”

“Well, why don’t you think about that while we get some rest?” she suggests, kicking her shoes off before going over to the terrace doors and tilting the blinds a little. “I don’t know about you, but I’m about to fall asleep, so I think our best course of action would be to get a couple of hours of rest.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” He looks around the room for the first time. “Where is the bedroom?”

Clarke slides her hand into his and pulls him along towards the bathroom. “Through here.”

As promised, their bags are waiting in the bedroom, and they both change out of their travel clothes before Bellamy sets an alarm on his phone for two hours and they crawl into bed.

“Have I thanked you lately?” he mumbles once they’ve settled in, him on his back and her with her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his and one arm wrapped around him. He’s trailing a hand up and down her back, through the thin material of the tank top she put on, but the touch is still warm.

She turns her head up a little to be able to look at him. “For what?”

He half-shrugs. “This, everything. Just… giving me the most amazing experience I could ever have asked for.”

Her instinct is to brush it off, to say it’s nothing, or that it’s just as much for her as it is for him, which is true. But, for some reason, she doesn’t. Not this time.

Instead, she settles back down, burying her face against his neck and breathing in the mix of day-old cologne, airplane, sweat and Bellamy. The best scent in the world.

“Not lately, no.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head and slides his hand under her top, just resting it against the small of her back, a warm presence against her skin. “Then thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”


	48. The Night Was Heavy and the Air Was Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some more relaxation and another birthday! 
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings
> 
> Chapter title from “Moonlight Shadow” by Mike Oldfield

The first few days in Bora Bora are exactly what Clarke imagined – they sleep in, have lazy morning sex, order breakfast to the room and then lounge about on the terrace, every now and then cooling off in their private pool or the sea. At some point, they either order lunch or venture to the beach bar for some food, and then either stay at the beach for the rest of the afternoon, or go back to their bungalow. In the evening, they watch the sunset from the terrace and then go inside to get ready for dinner, which they have at one of the restaurants the hotel offers, and usually wrap the day up out on the terrace again, star gazing well into the night.

On Tuesday, they take a break from the general relaxation to try their hands at paddle boarding. She already knew her balance wasn’t great, and it’s only proven by the fact that she spends about as much time in the water as she does on the board, despite both their instructor and Bellamy assuring her that the conditions are pretty much perfect. She still has fun, though, which is of course what matters.

They spend most of Wednesday on the main island, exploring first the jungle on ATVs and then strolling around the largest town, Vaitape. It doesn’t take long – it’s basically one main street which follows the coastline, residential streets branching off it – and they’re done by early afternoon. Bellamy has, of course, researched the place, so once they’ve had a quick lunch, they rent a car for the afternoon and follow the circle road that wraps around the island. Their first stop is at Pofai Bay, where there are some artifacts from World War Two, for some reason.

“Were they even involved in the war?” Clarke asks, frowning at the fenced off area with two large anchors and a gun and trying to remember.

“The US used the island as a supply base, apparently,” he tells her. “There weren’t any battles, and the base was closed in… forty-six, I think, but there are still remnants left. We saw some of the bunkers in the jungle, remember?”

“Right. What else is there?”

Bellamy shrugs. “There are eight cannons at different spots around the island,” he replies. “Most of them aren’t easy to get to, but I thought we could give it a try, if you want? The weather’s not ideal for sunbathing, after all, so we might as well do something else.”

She bites her lip against the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth. It’s true that the afternoon has turned cloudy, and they even felt a few rain drops a little while ago, but it’s also obvious that he’s trying to sound casual but is actually really excited about the prospect of exploring the island on the hunt for hidden treasure.

“Then let’s get going,” she decides. “We don’t want the sun to set before we have a chance to see them.”

In the end, they manage to find six of the cannons, mostly thanks to a very good website they find before heading out and a little thanks to Google Maps. The first pair is up on a hill a little north of Vaitape, a fifteen minute hike from the main road.

“Wow,” Clarke breathes when they step out of the trees to the open space surrounding the cannons. Which are cool, absolutely, but her eyes are instantly drawn to the view beyond, down towards the town below them and the sea.

“That hike would have been worth it just for this view,” Bellamy notes, going up to one of the cannons.

“These are cool too,” she offers, joining him, and he snorts a laugh.

“Real convincing.”

They admire the view and the cannons for a little longer before heading back down and continuing along the road.

The second pair of cannons are more easily accessible, only a few minutes’ walk from the road, though again, it’s a pretty steep incline. The barrel of one of the guns is missing, but the view is still stunning.

The last pair they do find is on the eastern side of the island, overlooking – as they find when they reach the cannons – their hotel across the lagoon.

“So we’re basically staring down the barrel of a gun at all times,” Bellamy says in an amused voice.

Clarke peaks into said barrel. “I doubt anything can be fired out of this thing,” she tells him. “So I think we’re safe.”

“Phew, I was worried there for a while.”

After reading about the final two cannons and how difficult they are to reach, they decide against even trying, but they do find the missing barrel on their way back to Vaitape and the boat to their hotel.

“So that was a totally awesome day,” Clarke notes when they’re back in their room. “But I’m kind of beat. Mind if we just order room service for dinner?”

Bellamy pauses in the process of pulling a t-shirt over his head and she takes the opportunity to admire his chest and abs. “You think I prefer getting dressed up and going out to ordering food here?” he asks incredulously after a moment, tugging the shirt down.

She pouts a little to express her disappointment in being deprived her eye candy. “Not really, but figured I’d better check.”

He rolls his eyes and then does a belly flop next to her on the bed. “Trust me – if you don’t want to get out of bed for the rest of the day, I have absolutely no objections.”

“Well, I don’t want to get food in the bed, so we should maybe eat somewhere else,” she suggests, reaching across him for the room service menu on the bedside table on his side.

She does manage to convince him to get up for food, and they eat out on the terrace, the evening dark and mostly quiet around them, the only sounds coming from the main resort and another bungalow a few doors down that’s occupied, their only company the millions of stars twinkling down at them.

“So, tomorrow,” he starts when they’ve both finished their food and moved to the sun loungers by the pool. “What do you want to do?”

Clarke thinks about it for a moment. “Well, we’re doing the snorkeling thing on Friday afternoon, so I figured we’d just relax tomorrow.”

She’s looking up at the stars, but she can still feel him turn his head to look at her. “No, I meant, what do you want to do tomorrow?” he says after a moment, as if that clarifies anything.

She turns to meet his eyes, finding a small furrow between his eyebrows, as if he’s confused. “Just relax,” she repeats. When he just stares at her, she continues. “What?”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t actually remember what day it is tomorrow, do you?”

It’s her turn to frown. “It’s Thursday, what’s so… oh!”

“There we go.”

It’s her birthday. “I can’t believe I forgot. I told you I was completely lost time wise!”

He just chuckles, the sound filling the night and making warmth bloom in her chest. “So again I ask – what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Honestly? I kind of do just want to relax, really. You know, breakfast in bed, just lounging about out here…”

He shoots her a doubtful look. “If that’s what you want… but let me know if you think of something.”

She considers it, remembering her conversation with Raven about this place… “Can it be anything I want?” she finally asks.

Apparently, there’s something in her voice to tip him off, because his eyes narrow. “Why does that sound so ominous?”

She can’t help but laugh at his careful voice. “Maybe because you know me?”

“I do,” he agrees, eyes and voice softening. “Anything you want, within reason, how about that?”

“That sounds great.”

-100

Somehow, Bellamy manages to not only get out of bed without waking her up the next morning, but also order and get their breakfast, because Clarke wakes up to him singing _Happy Birthday_ quietly, and when she opens her eyes, he’s standing by the side of the bed with a tray with, among other things, a stack of pancakes with a lit birthday candle.

“How did you do this without waking me up?” she asks incredulously as she pushes herself into a sitting position.

He places the tray in her lap and joins her in bed again. “I talked to a guy at the reception yesterday, planned when they were getting here, and then I just had to hide my phone under my pillow and set it to vibrate to wake me up and sneak out into the main room and let the guy in with the food. Piece of cake.”

She leans over to steal a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

“Only the best for you, Princess,” he replies, snatching up a piece of cantaloupe. “Happy birthday.”

And it is a very happy birthday.

After breakfast in bed, they have some pretty amazing birthday sex before actually getting up and putting on enough clothes to be decent on the terrace, where they spend the rest of the morning. For lunch, Bellamy insists on going to their favorite restaurant, and once they’ve finished their meal, he tells her that he’s booked them a couple’s massage at the spa, and they spend the next hour getting every little bit of tension rubbed and kneaded out of their bodies.

“I really hope you haven’t booked parasailing or something,” Clarke says sleepily when they’re on their way back to their room. “I might fall asleep.”

He chuckles next to her and slides an arm around her waist. She gratefully leans against him. “Nope, nothing else booked. Well, dinner, but we have to eat, right?”

“Right.” She pauses for a moment. “So, where are we going?”

He pinches her side a little. “You’ll find out in a few hours.”

She considers arguing, using it being her birthday to get him to tell her, but not only does she think it won’t work, it’s actually kind of nice to have a surprise to look forward to. Plus, she really is half-asleep on her feet – she just doesn’t have the energy.

So she lets it go, and they spend a couple of hours lounging – or, in her case at least, napping – on the terrace, until Bellamy decides they should start getting ready for dinner.

The dress code at the hotel is fairly laid back, but Clarke was still planning on putting on her favorite dress tonight, and he seems to have the same idea, because he grabs a nice pair of slacks and a button-down.

“You won’t be too hot?” she asks when she sees it, and he gives her a lascivious smile.

“I’m always too hot, Princess.” At her eye roll, he laughs and continues. “Temperature wise, I should be fine for an hour or two, don’t worry. It has cooled down a little.”

“Good.”

They end up at the restaurant down by the water, at an almost private table with lit candles and rose petals strewn over the tablecloth.

“OK, a little cliché, I know, but it’s nice, right?” Bellamy asks when their waiter has left with their drink order.

He sounds a little nervous, so Clarke reaches across the table to take his hand and he squeezes her fingers. “It’s amazing.”

They get their food quickly, and when they’ve finished, he insists on ordering dessert as well. When it arrives, it’s accompanied by what looks like the entire wait staff, singing what is undoubtedly a local birthday song. Part of her wishes she could sink through the floor, but she tries to see it as sweet.

Still, she is relieved when Bellamy says, slightly horrified, that he definitely did not ask them to do that.

“I just said it was your birthday,” he tells her when they’re alone again. “I didn’t think that would mean a birthday song.”

“It’s OK,” she assures him. “It was kind of sweet.”

He gives her a questioning look. “And awkward as hell?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

Clarke sinks her spoon into her tiramisu and pops it in her mouth, closing her eyes at the flavor explosion.

“Oh my God, this is am…” she starts when she opens her eyes again, cutting herself off when she spots the little velvet box in Bellamy’s hand. A box that looks to be the perfect size for… she doesn’t let herself finish the thought. “What’s that?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Birthday present. You do understand the general concept, right?”

She laughs, the sound too strained in her own ears, but he doesn’t seem to notice, and she tries to push down the disappointment that her initial impression was wrong.

She reaches for the box and flips the lid open, revealing a beautiful, silver pendant in delicate filigree.

“It’s called a _relikaryo_ ,” Bellamy says, giving her an anxious look. “It’s apparently traditional Filipino jewelry, originally used to carry around religious relics, which I guess is where it gets its name. They’re usually worn with something called a _tamborin_ necklace, but those are really ornate, I thought about it but they didn’t really seem like your style at all, so I just got this simple chain, but you can change that if you want. I mean, if you like it…”

She offers him a smile that’s, like, 99% genuine. It _is_ a beautiful necklace, and she _does_ really like it. It’s not his fault she thought it was something else, for a brief moment. “I love it, really. Help me put it on?”

He lets out a relieved breath and gets up to clasp the necklace around her neck. The pendant lands just above her breasts, cold for a moment but quickly warming up from contact with her skin. Clarke lifts one hand to touch it, and this time, her smile is stronger. “Thank you, I love it.”

“Yeah?”

When she nods, he leans down for a quick but soft kiss.

“I love you,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“I love you.”

He goes back to his seat and reaches across the table for her hand, and they finish their dessert like that, Bellamy’s thumb rubbing against her knuckles every now and then.

They take a detour back to their room, strolling along the moonlit beach before cutting back to the bridges. There’s music coming from the beach bar, where there’s usually a live band in the evenings, and the usual night time sounds all around them – distant laughing, the sound of the waves crashing against the beach, their feet on the path. The lights are on in some of the cabins they pass, but once they get to the wooden docks leading to the overwater bungalows, it really feels like they’re all alone.

“So, good birthday?” Bellamy asks when they’ve almost reached their door.

Clarke turns so she can look up at him, her breath almost catching at the way the moonlight is playing against his hair, his skin… he’s beautiful in basically any lighting, but right now, he looks almost ethereal. “Wonderful birthday,” she says when she finds her voice again. “But it’s not over yet, is it?”

He chuckles as he follows her the last few feet to their bungalow. “Is this where you tell me what it is you want to do? I’ve been waiting all day.”

“Soon,” she promises, unlocking the door and pulling him along inside.

Her general idea for tonight was initially skinny dipping, which would probably be fine if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s an outdoor light on the terrace. If they keep it off, they won’t see a thing, and if they turn it on, anyone nearby who happen to be looking their way – not that there’s a lot of people around, they’re not facing the main resort, but still – would see them when they’re on the terrace, even if that’s just for a minute or two before they get in the water. And, all things considered, Clarke would rather not put on a show for anyone.

So she grabs her bikini and turns her back to Bellamy.

“Unzip me?”

She feels his hand, warm against her back. “Not that I mind this part, but what’s with the bikini? Midnight dip?”

She lets the dress fall to her feet when the zipper’s undone and steps out of it before hanging it up.

“It’s not midnight yet, is it?”

She turns to give him a smile, just catching his eye roll. “Technicalities. A _night_ swim, then.”

“Well… what I would really like to do is go skinny dipping with you,” she explains, enjoying the way his eyes widen just slightly. “But I don’t particularly want anyone to see me buck naked on the terrace, so I figured it’s safest to at least start out wearing clothes.”

“Oh.” He pauses, swallows. “Yeah, that does sound like a perfect end to your birthday.”

“Right?”

Clarke unhooks her bra and tosses it on the bed, pulling the bikini top on before he can do more than give her an appreciative look, and then switches her panties for the bottoms as well. It’s not her favorite bikini, that one’s still drying out on the terrace after the last dip of the afternoon, but this one should work fine for what she has in mind – the top is a basic triangle one, with cups that can be moved freely along the strings, and the bottom has ties on both sides which can be undone completely.

Convenient.

When she’s pulled the bottoms on, Bellamy’s finally gotten with the program and is just shrugging out of his shirt. She lets her eyes slide down his chest and back up again before giving him a smirk.

“Last one in is a rotten egg.”

She hears his laugh following her out through the terrace doors, and she’s just let go of the ladder when he appears at the top.

“That’s cheating,” he tells her, but he’s still smiling.

She lets herself float on her back as she looks up at him. “How? It’s not my fault that my… assets distracted you a little.”

The smile turns into a grin and she realizes what he’s about to do a split second before he leaps off the terrace, landing a few feet from her, cannon ball style. Clarke can’t help but let out a squeal as water splashes her.

They give into their inner five-year-olds for a while, splashing each other, diving under to grab at each other’s legs. When he decides he’s had enough, Bellamy wraps an arm around her and pulls her close in the water. They’ve established earlier in the week that she can just reach the bottom if she stands on her tiptoes, whereas he can stand fairly comfortably and still keep his head above water.

“So…” he starts, pushing a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. “When does the skinny part of the dip begin?”

She bites her lip before leaning closer to kiss him, which he returns happily. “I thought we’d build to that,” she says when she pulls away.

Bellamy’s eyes darken when he realizes what she means. “Ah, so that’s what you actually wanted on your birthday, huh?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t have been opposed on any other night,” she replies with a shrug. “I actually talked to Raven about it when I had booked this place, but it kind of slipped my mind until you asked what I wanted to do today.”

He chuckles, repositioning them so she can wrap her legs around his waist and nudging her chin with his nose to get better access to her throat.

“So you don’t mind?” she gets out, trying to keep her head on straight, between the feel of his mouth against her skin and his hands warm and large on her hips.

He pulls away to look around them. They know that none of the bungalows out at their end are occupied, and right now, the only light they can see from where they are seems to come from one of the first ones, closest to the beach.

“I doubt anyone’s going to interrupt,” he points out. “So I’m definitely up for it.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows and then deliberately grinds down against him. “Well, not yet… but we can work on that.”

He snorts at her ridiculous pun but slides one hand up her back to wrap around her neck and pull her in for a kiss, so really, she’s not complaining.

She lets herself get lost in him, in the way their mouths and tongues slide together, the way his thumb rubs circles against the sensitive spot just below her ear, the way he wraps his other arm around her to pull her flush against him.

She doesn’t even notice that he maneuvers them through the water until she suddenly feels the rough wood of the ladder to their terrace against her back, and pulls away to look around herself.

They’re underneath their bungalow, which is probably good from a practical standpoint. Even if someone were to pass by, they won’t be immediately visible from the water, and they’re completely hidden from view from above.

“OK?” Bellamy asks, pulling her attention back to him, and she nods before reclaiming his lips.

They keep just kissing for a little longer, but then she feels his hand leave her neck and trail back down, before he slides it around to her side and then up, to push the cup of her bikini to the side. When she feels his rough palm against the soft skin, she arches against him, craving more.

He doesn’t make her wait long, bringing his other hand around to get the other cup out of the way as well, twirling her nipples between his fingers in unison. Clarke has to break the kiss to suck in a breath, letting her head fall back against the wooden rung behind her. He takes the opportunity to kiss down her neck, letting his teeth graze her shoulder, and she lets out a gasp.

“Shhh,” he hushes her. “Can’t draw attention to ourselves.”

She knows he’s right, but she still has to retaliate, so she gets a hand between them and into his swimming trunks, wrapping around him. He’s not quite fully hard yet, but a few strokes of her hand gets him the rest of the way. She watches him closely as she slides her hand down one last time, twisting it a little on her way back up, and smiles when he bites his lip.

“Quiet, remember?”

She releases him and tries to push his trunks down instead, but she’s wrapped too tightly around him to be able to make much progress. Besides, she needs to get her bottoms off too, so she reluctantly releases her grip on him.

Which, of course, means that she sinks further into the water, but he grabs her by the waist before she actually goes under. She finally gets his trunks down enough to free him, and then makes quick work of her own bottoms, tying them to the ladder next to her.

Bellamy laughs a little when he sees that. “What?” she asks, frowning at him. “I don’t want them to float away.”

He just shakes his head and pulls her closer again, and she eagerly wraps her legs around him, and they both groan a little when his length slides between her folds. He pushes her back harder against the ladder, and Clarke briefly hopes that the wood is smooth enough she won’t get splinters, but then he kisses her, deep and dirty, squeezes her breast with one hand and gets the other around her thigh to push a finger inside her, and all thoughts abandon her.

She digs her nails into his shoulders, earning a moan that she swallows, and tries to grind against him with the same rhythm as his finger inside her. Which means that his dick slides against her clit, and it’s not long before she’s on the edge, her movements giving her away as she pushes more erratically against him. He breaks the kiss, maintaining eye contact as he pushes a second finger inside her, curling them up just right, and snapping his hips against her.

She comes with a silent cry, eyes slamming shut, just barely registering Bellamy leaning his forehead against hers, whispering to her as the waves of pleasure wash over her.

When she’s come down, she opens her eyes, blinking lazily, and when she can finally focus on him, he’s smiling at her.

“Good?”

She leans in to rub her nose against his. “Amazing.”

“And we’re just getting started.”

Clarke closes the distance between them, kissing him slow and lazy, and lets out a small whine when his fingers slip out of her. A moment later, though, she feels the head of his dick at her entrance, and then he’s pushing inside her, filling her up.

He gives her a moment to adjust, like he always does, but when she digs her heels into his back, he takes the hint and pulls out before thrusting back inside, a little more power behind it, and she gasps into the kiss.

He breaks it to trail kisses down her throat, to her collar bone, but then he straightens up with a frown.

“What?” she asks, breathless, looking down to see what the problem is.

Bellamy’s trying to fight a smile when she meets his eyes again. “I was just, you know, but… I can’t actually breathe underwater, so…”

She looks down again, realizing that most of her breasts, including her nipples, are actually under the surface of the water.

“What, you didn’t bring your snorkel?”

He bursts out laughing at that, and she joins him for a moment before leaning in for another kiss.

“How about this?” she then asks, reaching above her to grasp one of the rungs of the ladder and lifting herself a few inches, enough to expose her nipples to the evening air, which isn’t the least bit cold but still makes them pebble immediately, while still keeping him deep inside her.

“Better,” he announces, immediately leaning down to pull a nipple into his mouth, twirling the other between his fingers as he starts thrusting into her again.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Clarke agrees, meeting each snap of his hips with one of her own, her hands wrapped almost painfully around the ladder.

It’s not long before his movements start faltering, but he does manage to push her over the edge one more time before following himself, thumb rubbing insistent circles against her clit and teeth grazing her nipple.

They stay still, both catching their breath for a long moment, before Bellamy brushes a whisper of a kiss against her lips. “So, ocean sex is definitely fun, but what do you say we continue this inside?”

“Continue?” she asks with a smile.

He makes sure she has a good grip on the ladder before stepping back, pulling out of her and tugging his trunks back up. “I figured your birthday deserves at least an attempt at an all-nighter,” he replies, untying her bikini bottoms from the ladder and helping her getting them back on.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

They don’t quite manage to make it the entire night, succumbing to sleep at some point after the horizon starts turning pink but before the sun actually rises, but Clarke’s still more than happy with her birthday orgasm count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: explicit sexual content


	49. Waves on the Ocean, Hearts in the Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, sorry for the late update. I had a really busy week, which turned into a really shitty week, and I just wasn’t feeling it… but it’s Saturday, which has been a little better than the last few days, so let’s do this. Time for South America, where I’ve never been, but it was a lot of fun to explore with Google Maps, so hopefully it’ll be fun for you guys too!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “All We Have Is Now” by Ross Copperman

Their last couple of days in Bora Bora basically fly by, and not just because they sleep until noon the day after Clarke’s birthday. They go snorkeling in the afternoon, and then it’s the last day, even though they have their room for the whole day and their flight doesn’t leave until the evening. It’s still their last day, and neither of them can really relax and enjoy it as much as they probably should.

“So, Peru up next, right?” Bellamy asks once they’re at the airport.

“Eventually, yeah,” she confirms. “Long flight first, though.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not getting to Cusco until Monday morning.” She lets out a sigh. “But this is the last really long flight, at least.”

“That’s something, I guess.” He leans his head against the wall behind them and closes his eyes. “But we’ll get to see Machu Picchu, so it’s all good.”

Clarke leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes, feels his arm go around her. “Say that again after two eight hour flights, two short ones and a bunch of layovers.”

He just groans in response.

The do end up managing to sleep almost the entire flight from Papeete to Los Angeles, though, probably because it leaves at midnight and they’re both tired after being a little on edge all day, so they’re fairly coherent during the two hour layover in LA.

“This feels wrong,” Bellamy notes when they’re grabbing some breakfast.

“Going through the US to get from Bora Bora to Peru, you mean?” she asks, taking a sip of her orange juice.

“Yeah. I mean, we’re not going to LA, obviously, but it’s still weird being back in the States but not really _back_ , you know?”

“I guess.”

The rest of the trip isn’t as much fun. The flight from LA to Lima is another nine hours, but now neither of them are really tired so they end up watching movies the whole time, and they can’t sleep during the layover at the airport, and then it’s just another hour and a half to Cusco.

They land at six in the morning, local time, which means that they’ve been awake for over twenty hours.

Again.

“You’d think we’d eventually get used to this,” Clarke grumbles when they’re in line for a cab.

“Nope, there’s no getting used to this, it’s not natural,” Bellamy replies. “The human body is not meant to stay awake this long. Come to think of it, it’s probably not meant to keep going between different time zones and shit either.”

“That sounds right. All I know is I’m so tired I don’t even remember my name.”

“Clarke,” he supplies, helpfully.

She narrows her eyes at him but his are completely closed, so he doesn’t see. “Thank you,” she says, hoping the sarcasm comes across despite the fact that she can barely remain upright.

“No problem,” he assures her, reaching out to, she assumes, pat her shoulder but hitting her in the nose instead. “Sorry!”

They both feel more like human beings after a couple of hours of sleep at their hotel, at least, and set out to explore the city a little.

To Clarke, Cusco was more or less a pit stop on their way to Machu Picchu, the nearest city with a large airport, even if they’ll have to take first a bus and then a train to actually get to the ancient Inca city. The only reason she didn’t book the bus to Ollantaytambo, from where they’re taking the train to Machu Picchu for a day long visit, the same day they arrived was that she figured they’d be tired from the long flight and it sounded nice to have a day to relax and charge their batteries.

But Bellamy, of course, has researched the place and has a list of places he wants to see before they move on, and she’s more than happy to give him free rein.

So they spend the morning strolling around the city. Their hotel is right by the main square Plaza de Armas, so they’re really slap bang in the middle of all the action and both the church La Compañia and the cathedral are basically on their doorstep. They check those out first, before continuing along a winding, narrow street leading off the square, past souvenir shops and restaurants, eventually finding the old wall of an Inca palace, impressive with its huge, smooth stones. A few twists and turns later, they arrive at the Santo Domingo convent, built on the ruins of the Inca temple Coricancha.

“It’s a shame the original temple was destroyed,” Bellamy notes, voice thoughtful, when they’re standing in the middle of the courtyard.

“It is,” Clarke agrees. “What happened to it?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “The same thing that happened to a lot of the native places of worship, the conquistadors tore it down when they got here. Some stonework is all that remains, but it used to be an amazing place, the walls were lined with sheets of solid gold and there were statues and stuff in gold as well. All taken down and melted.”

“It must have been breathtaking.”

He gives her a half-smile. “Yeah.”

They take a roundabout way back to the square, past the church and convent of La Merced, and grab a late lunch in the shadows of the arcades lining the open space, trying out some local delicacies.

The afternoon is spent at Museo Inca, where they get a better understanding of the culture, learning about its rise and fall and admiring art and pottery, jewelry and textiles.

Their bus leaves at two in the afternoon the next day, but they still have time to check out the San Pedro market in the morning, with a pit stop at San Francisco church and monastery on the way, and even climb the steep hill up to the ruins of the old fortified complex Sacsayhuaman. The massive ramparts are impressive, and the view of the city below, nestled in the valley, with mountains reaching towards the sky all around, is absolutely stunning. After a quick lunch on the way down, they’re back at their hotel a little after one.

“OK, so we need to pack what we need for tomorrow,” Clarke says, emptying her carry-on bag out onto the bed.

“We’re not bringing everything?” Bellamy asks.

She shakes her head. “No, you can only bring small bags on the bus, so we’ll have to leave the rest here. We’re not checking out, so it’s not a problem.”

“Oh, I thought we were. Seems like a waste to keep a hotel room for two nights when we’re not even here,” he notes.

“It was just the way it made most sense, with the luggage restrictions,” she explains. “Actually, come to think of it, we might as well pack everything up so we don’t have to do that when we get back on Thursday. The bus is supposed to get in at eleven in the morning, and our flight isn’t until five thirty, but you never know.”

So they get everything they need packed into their backpacks, and the rest into their suitcases, and still manage to make the bus stop with ten minutes to spare.

The bus ride is definitely an experience, especially the last half hour or so, when the road is sandwiched in between the Urubamba River on one side and the mountains on the other.

Clarke knew that they were already high in the mountains, and they actually travel further down on their way to Ollantaytambo, but somehow she feels it in a different way here. Their hotel is near the station where the train to Machu Picchu will depart from, with mountains on all sides, their peaks shrouded in white, fluffy clouds.

“So we’ll be spending all day at Machu Picchu tomorrow, and then the train back to Cusco leaves early on Thursday, right?” Bellamy asks once they’ve checked into the hotel.

“Well, we’re meeting the guide in Aguas Calientes at ten, but the train ride is an hour and a half, so we’re leaving at eight. The drive from the village to Machu Picchu is twenty minutes or so, then we’re doing a two hour tour, half an hour for lunch, and another two hours, so we’ll be done around three. There is a train back here at ten minutes to four, but that would be cutting it a little close, with the drive back to the village, so I booked the next one, which leaves at four twenty, and we’ll be back here a little after six.” She pauses to catch her breath and glance at him. “So yeah, pretty much an all-day thing, and we won’t have any daylight after we get back, so if there’s anything you want to do here, we should probably get that done today.”

He huffs a laugh. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me,” she assures him, leaning up for a brief kiss. “Come on, let’s get going, you can tell me what we’re checking out on the way.”

So they head off along what appears to be the main road leading into the town.

“Right, so Ollantaytambo is actually also a pretty important archaeological site,” Bellamy starts once they’ve gotten their bearings. “It was conquered by an Inca emperor back in the fifteenth century and became a part of his personal estate, so there was a lot of work done – fancy buildings for the nobility, terracing the mountain sides, irrigation systems… Actually, some of the oldest, continuously inhabited buildings in South America are here, which is pretty cool.”

“So is that where we’re going?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know which buildings are that old, but we’ll probably pass some pretty old ones on the way. No, we’re going to Temple Hill, which are fortified terraces leading to an Inca temple. The temple itself was never finished, but what was built is pretty well preserved, plus you have an amazing view of the valley below.” He squints ahead of them for a moment, before lifting his hand to point. “It should be that, over there, up on the hillside, see? And on the opposite side of the valley, there are old Inca granaries and storage buildings. Those are pretty difficult to get to, though, a really steep climb, so I figure we can just check those out from down in the town.”

They take a bit of a roundabout way through the town, past the main square and then along the street right below the eastern mountain. They get a pretty good view of the granaries above the town when they get close to them, so they snap a few pictures, and then cut west, back through the winding streets. There’s a small market in the square at the foot of the mountain, and they peruse the stalls selling mostly souvenirs for a little while.

It’s a good thing they left the hotel when they did, because they end up exploring the old ruins on the hilltop until the sun sets and they have to start climbing back down the terraces before darkness falls completely. They find a nice restaurant on the main square before returning to the hotel, where they turn in early to prepare for the day ahead.

-100-

The sun has already risen when they get up on Wednesday, despite it being only six thirty. The mist is still clinging to the ground around them, not only the mountaintops, which creates an almost ethereal landscape when they leave the hotel.

“It’s almost like a fairy tale,” Clarke murmurs, not sure why she’s keeping her voice down other than the otherworldly atmosphere.

“I know what you mean,” Bellamy agrees, eyes fixed on the meadows across the street from the hotel, where the white mist is swirling around. “I don’t have a lot of happy memories from my childhood… I mean, I love Octavia, and all my memories of her are happy, sort of, but they’re also tainted, with everything…”

She reaches out to squeeze his hand. “I know.”

He shoots her a grateful smile before continuing. “There’s one, though, even if I sometimes doubt it’s an actual memory… I think it must have been when we were moving from Detroit to New Jersey, because we were driving for a whole night. Don’t ask me why we didn’t just go during the day, I guess my mom would have had her reasons. Anyway, I remember waking up in the backseat in the early morning, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, nothing but fields all around. And the mist was playing over them, just like this.” He nods at the mist in question. “Mom told me it was the fairies, dancing. I have no idea why it stuck in my mind, but it did…”

“It’s a nice memory,” she tells him, leaning lightly against his shoulder, even though it’s not particularly comfortable while they’re walking. She wants to be close. “And a nice thought.”

“I guess,” he says with a shrug. “I don’t know where it came from, she was usually pretty straight forward, never sugar coating anything. Maybe it was something her parents told her and she just thought of in the moment, who knows.”

Clarke stays quiet until they reach the tracks, and while they grab some coffee for the trip, and when they watch the train rolling into the station. Once they’ve found their seats, she picks up the conversation, though. They’re not alone, of course, the train is pretty much full, but she doubts any of the other tourists have any interest in what they’re talking about.

“Listen, I know your mom’s parents kicked her out when she was a teenager,” she starts, and Bellamy pulls his attention from the large window next to her. “But did you ever think about looking them up?”

He frowns for a moment, as if the question never occurred to him. “Not really,” he then says. “I mean, social services suggested it, after Mom died, but based on what she used to say about them, I didn’t think they would take it that well, if me and O just showed up on their doorstep. I mean, if you kick your sixteen-year-old daughter out of the house for kissing a guy, would you really want to have anything to do with her two illegitimate children?”

It’s a fair point, of course, and basically the reason she didn’t bring it up until now, even though it’s been sort of brewing somewhere on a back burner ever since they talked about his grandparents back in France.

“I get what you’re saying,” she tells him as the train lurches a little and then starts moving out of the station. “And they might have reacted that way, but… wouldn’t you rather know that, and not just assume?”

Bellamy’s eyes stray to the window again, but she knows he’s not just brushing her off. And, sure enough, a few minutes later, he lets out a long breath.

“I have thought about it,” he admits. “I mean, I managed to convince social services to give me a chance taking care of O before contacting them, so I don’t think they ever did, and Mom definitely never reached out to them after she left home… they probably don’t even know they have grandchildren, or that Mom’s dead.”

“They might not,” Clarke agrees, trying to choose her next words carefully. “And I’m not saying that your mom lied to you or anything, absolutely not, but… there are always two sides to every story. I might not have personal experience, but I know from pop culture that everything is basically life or death when you’re a teenager. It might have been some… ultimatum situation, you know, ‘as long as you live under our roof you do as we say’, or ‘if you leave this house, young lady, don’t you think about coming back’, and she took it literally. They might not have actually meant to kick her out…”

The corner of his mouth turns up in a fond half-smile. “Basically that exact thought has crossed my mind, more than once. Only, you know, without the whole ‘no personal experience’ part. Seriously, don’t say stuff like that, you sound like some sort of alien trying to pass off as a human.”

She elbows him lightly in the side. “Shut up. But… maybe you should think about looking them up when we’re back stateside?”

They won’t have that much time when they are, of course, but if they fly instead of drive, they could take a day-trip to Chicago, assuming his grandparents still live there.

Bellamy gives her a suspicious look. “You didn’t already find them, did you?”

“Of course not.” She throws in an eye roll for good measure. “I don’t even know their names. Octavia was easy, I just had to do a Facebook search and there she was, but Blake is a pretty common last name and Chicago is a big city, I need a _little_ more to go on than that.”

“Right, I thought maybe you’d had Raven use my mom’s name to find them or something.”

Clarke considers that for a moment. “You know, I wouldn’t put it past Raven to be able to do that, but it actually hadn’t occurred to me.”

He laughs softly at that, once again turning his attention to the view beyond the window. “Good to know.”

“So did we decide on something?” she has to ask after a minute, when he seems to be finished with the conversation. “Do you want to look them up?”

Bellamy nods slowly, not looking at her. “Might as well, right? Even if they don’t want anything to do with us. Get all my ducks in a row before…”

He cuts himself off, but she knows what he was about to say, of course, and her eyes flick to the Number on his forehead for the first time in… weeks, she realizes. 45. In just two weeks, she’ll be able to go into the app to claim the Transfer, and then…

Clarke slams the breaks on the thought firmly. She knows Bellamy has been looking forward to today, and she has too. She’s not going to bring them both down by focusing on the future. Or the lack of a future.

“OK,” she says, pitching her voice deliberately cheerful. “So when we get to San Francisco, we’ll see if we can find them just using the internet, and if not, I’ll get Raven on it. If they’re still in Chicago, we can do a day-trip there once we’re back in New York, and if they’ve moved somewhere else, we’ll figure it out.”

The smile he gives her is indulgent, and she knows he knows exactly what she’s doing. He doesn’t call her out on it, though, so she figures it’s fine.

To her great relief, the scenery around the train track once they’ve left Ollantaytambo behind soon draws both of their attention, and they spend the rest of the train ride admiring the river, which follows the track like a shadow most of the way, the surrounding mountaintops, some of them capped in snow, and the occasional village and ruin they can spy from the train.

The bus station in Aguas Calientes is already teeming with people when they get there, but their guide has one of those plaques with their names on it. Or, well, close enough – it says ‘Clark Griffen and Belamie Black’.

“Mister Griffen,” he greets Bellamy when they’ve reached him.

Bellamy gives him an amused look. “Mister Blake, actually, but call me Bellamy. This is Miss Griffin.”

The man looks slightly flustered for a moment but then smiles. “My apologies, this was what they sent me, I made assumptions. Miss Griffin,” he says, turning to Clarke and offering her his hand as well. “Welcome to Aguas Calientes, my name is Juan and I will be your guide today.”

“Thank you,” she replies, shaking his hand. “And call me Clarke.”

“Clarke.” With one final smile, he turns to gesture at a Jeep some ways off. “Right this way.”

Clarke’s glad they didn’t decide to drive themselves to Machu Picchu during the ride from the village to the archaeological site. It’s obvious that Juan’s very familiar with the road, but she had a look at it on Google Maps when she was booking all of their trips, and it’s pretty much the definition of a serpentine road, with the added bonus of a sheer drop about five inches from the road. They meet a large tourist bus about halfway up, with them on the outside, and it feels like they’re halfway over the edge.

But they make it up, of course, leaving the Jeep in the parking lot and setting off on foot.

“We have to walk the last part,” Juan explains when he’s led them to the path, which is stunning in its own right, hugging the mountain and offering a 180 degree view of the surrounding range. The mist still hasn’t cleared the highest peaks, but the sky is a clear blue and the sun is shining. It’s not too hot, which might be good, considering they’re going to be walking in the sun all day, but the temperature is still pleasant.

Juan talks as they walk, telling them about the Inca people, the importance of this place, and its history, Bellamy piping in now and then, which seems to delight Juan.

And then they climb some stairs, take a couple of turns, and there it is, Machu Picchu, laid out below them.

“Whoa…” Bellamy breathes, eyes widening and mouth dropping open slightly, and Clarke has no doubt that she has a similar expression on her face.

“This is amazing,” she says, because it is, even if it feels… inadequate.

“This is my favorite part,” Juan says from a few steps ahead of them. He’s not looking down at the ruins, but back at the two of them. “I have seen this place so many times now, but seeing it through someone else’s eyes the first time they see it, that is still amazing.”

He gives them another few minutes to take it all in, and to get some pictures, and then ushers them along the path. He tells them that he’ll keep his guiding to when they’re stopped, since they need to watch where they’re going, which seems like a good idea – Clarke has no interest at all in going rolling down the stone terraces because she’s not paying attention to where she puts her feet and slips.

They pass a couple of the famous on site llamas, and Juan insists on getting a photo of both of them with the animals, so they pose, Bellamy trying to not burst out laughing when one of them starts nibbling on his sweater. Juan snaps a bunch of photos before handing the camera back, and leading them along again.

They spend the first two hours of the tour outside the actual city, exploring the end of the Inca trail, the terraces, the old guard house and the cemetery, before climbing a peak to get the iconic photos of the ruin city surrounded by the mountains. They even get photo bombed by a llama on the way down, which Juan assures them is like a rite of passage here.

They’re not technically allowed to eat on the actual site, so they head back along the path to a spot where they are, and Juan unpacks a backpack Clarke didn’t even notice before, setting out sandwiches and water for them. It’s not, objectively, the best meal she’s ever had, but the setting definitely puts it in the top ten.

When they’ve had their fill, they return along the path, this time heading straight through the old wall and into the actual city. The next two hours are a blur of amazing ruins and views, Juan telling them everything he knows about each one – the different temples, the Royal Palace, Sacred Plaza, and Sun Gate.

They actually go over their allotted time, and just barely manage to thank Juan before they have to hurry to catch the train back. They make it with a few minutes to spare, and both slump into their seats, lost in thought for a long moment as the train heads out and picks up speed.

Then Bellamy lets out a long, deep breath. “That was… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Clarke nods, scooting closer so she can lean her head against his shoulder, and his arm comes around her. “I know what you mean, it was so amazing, but that doesn’t feel like enough, somehow.”

He hums in agreement, his grip around her tightening, and she feels him lean his head on top of hers.

The scenery is just as stunning on the way back, and even more so when they catch the sun setting an hour or so into the trip, painting the mountainsides in a multitude of colors before dropping below the horizon.

Just like she predicted, it’s completely dark by the time they make it back to Ollantaytambo, and they decide against venturing out when they’re finally back in their hotel room, instead trying out the on-site restaurant. Somehow, they manage to run into another American couple on the way there, and end up eating with them. They just arrived at the hotel and are heading to Machu Picchu tomorrow, so they listen eagerly to Clarke and Bellamy’s experience of the site.

They end up staying at the restaurant until it closes at midnight, laughing and drinking with the couple, Callie and Jacapo, and having a good time in general.

So it’s been a very long day when they finally make it to bed, and while they end up wrapped around each other as soon as they’re both under the covers, neither of them even try to initiate anything.

“Good day?” Clarke asks quietly, sliding a hand across Bellamy’s chest and finding her favorite spot to nuzzle her nose against his throat. He gets one arm underneath her, trailing his fingers up and down her back once, his other thumb rubbing circles against the skin on her elbow.

“Amazing day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy’s memory of “fairies dancing” is actually my memory – I have an aunt who lives way up north in Sweden, while we’re in the south, and we usually visit her every other year. When me and my sister were little, we’d drive up overnight and we’d sleep in the backseat, and one of my strongest childhood memories is waking up when we’re parked somewhere with a view of a meadow with the mist swirling around… I don’t know where I heard that it’s fairies dancing, but it’s kind of sweet, I think


	50. In the Whisper of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before we get back to the US! In a way, it feels like we’re getting closer to the end, but we do still have nineteen chapters and a short epilogue to go, so I guess it’s all relative…
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “I Can Hear Your Heartbeat” by Chris Rea

Rio de Janeiro is just as overwhelming as Clarke remembers it from her one previous visit in the late nineties. Their flight gets in at four thirty in the morning, so they don’t really get the aerial view of the city she got last time, even if the lights spreading out beneath them give some of it away.

“I suck at booking flights,” she grumbles when they’re in line at customs, pushing the heels of her hands against her eyes, which does nothing to wake her up. “I thought, great, overnight flights, we can sleep on the plane and just get right to the sightseeing when we land, but I forgot that I can’t really sleep on planes.”

Bellamy chuckles next to her. “There is a bit of a flaw in that plan, yeah.”

“How are you more awake than I am?” she questions, leaning back against him for some support. He obligingly wraps his arms around her and she lets herself relax. “You didn’t get any more sleep than I did on the plane.”

“Oh, I’m tired, but I figure one of us should probably try to stay awake, so we don’t get robbed or something.”

“Good plan, you do that.”

They make it out of the airport, into a cab and to their hotel eventually, though Clarke’s half-asleep for most of the drive. He nudges her awake when they stop in front of their hotel, and she manages to stay on her feet through the check-in.

“I’m making an executive decision – we’re getting some sleep,” he says when she flops back onto the bed.

“Not arguing,” she replies without opening her eyes. She’s already wearing a soft t-shirt and a pair of comfy sweatpants, so she just rolls onto her side to unhook her bra and manages to get it out through the arm hole after a bit of wrangling. “But set an alarm, or we’ll sleep the whole day away and mess up our time zones.”

“That’s quite a party trick,” he notes, sounding amused, and then the bed dips next to her when he sits down. “Alarm for noon OK?”

It’s probably around six thirty by now, and five hours of sleep sounds absolutely heavenly. “Perfect.”

She vaguely registers that he moves a little next to her, and then his arm around her, pulling her closer, but then she’s out.

She’s woken up some time later by an incessant noise. For a moment, she’s completely disoriented, because the room is completely dark. When her eyes have adjusted a little, she spots the light sneaking in around the sides of the curtains, which Bellamy must have had the presence of mind to close before falling asleep, and then the faint outline of the bathroom door. The sound of running water is coming from the other side of it, so he must have woken up before the alarm went off and decided to take a shower.

Clarke fumbles for his phone on the bedside table and manages to get the alarm off, finally, before flipping on the light and rolling onto her back again. She’s not going to be jumping out of bed or anything, but she feels fairly well-rested and is pretty sure she’ll be able to handle an afternoon of sightseeing after a cup or two of coffee and a long, hot shower.

She’s checking her social media on her own phone when the door to the bathroom opens, revealing Bellamy with one towel around his waist and another in his hand, drying his hair.

“Morning,” he greets her with a half-smile. “Sleep OK?”

“Great,” she replies. “Did you seriously wake up _before_ the alarm?”

He shrugs, crossing the room and coming to a stop in front of her. “I figured I could get a head start in the shower while you slept.” He pauses, and then his eyes widen. “But I forgot to turn the alarm off, sorry. I was planning to wake you up in a much nicer way than that.”

She bites her lip at the images his words make flash through her mind. “Yeah?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he tells her with a chuckle, making to turn and round the bed to the side where his suitcase is lying open, but she reaches out to grab onto the towel still wrapped around him.

“Why? It’s much more fun there…”

He just looks at her, eyebrows raised, but doesn’t object when she tugs on the towel, making it drop to the floor.

“I thought you wanted to explore the city a little today?” he notes, but he also leans down above her, placing one hand on either side of her, his mouth just brushing hers when he speaks.

“There’s no rush,” she assures him. “We have plenty of time.”

It’s almost one thirty by the time they finally leave the hotel, but they don’t really have anything planned today, so it’s not like they’re in a hurry. Their hotel is across the street from Copacabana, and they stroll along the beach all the way to Ipanema, grabbing a late lunch at one of the many restaurants lining the boardwalk.

The sun sets even earlier here than it did in Peru, and it’s basically completely dark by six, so they start heading back in the general direction of the hotel.

They’re both still pretty awake and alert when they return to their room after dinner and some more exploring, but they manage to tire each other out enough they still get a good night’s sleep.

Saturday is their sightseeing day, so after breakfast, they catch a cab to the cable car station for Sugarloaf Mountain. It’s not that crowded yet, despite it being the weekend, and they don’t have any trouble getting great pictures of the city below and surrounding rainforest.

Back in the city, they take a lunch break and then head over to the station for the cog train up to Corcovado and the Christ Redeemer statue. Last time Clarke was here, she took one of the vans up to the statue, but when she was looking into it this time, she found the train instead.

And judging by Bellamy’s fascination with the forest they pass through, it was definitely the right choice. They catch glimpses of colorful birds on the way, and he swears he sees a monkey too.

The statue itself is spectacular, of course, even though she’s seen it before. It’s early afternoon, so the crowd’s worse than at Sugarloaf Mountain, but she picked the time carefully – last time, she didn’t get here until late afternoon, which meant that all the pictures she took of the statue were basically a blur due to the backlight from the sun.

“So that’s one to go, right?” Clarke asks once they’ve both gotten great photos of the statue and the city. They even got some other tourists to take a photo of the two of them, since it’s been a while since they actually posted a selfie, which Raven pointed out in her last text.

“One what to go?” Bellamy replies with a frown.

“The new wonders of the world, remember?”

The expression on his face clears to amusement. “That’s right, I can’t believe you remembered. Only Chichén Itzá to go now, yeah.”

She does a quick mental check of their itinerary. “And we’ll get to that one in six days.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup, got tickets for Friday.”

He nods but goes quiet, eyebrows a little furrowed as he looks out over the city and sea far below them.

“You OK?” Clarke asks after a few minutes and he gives her a half-smile.

“Yeah, just… I can’t believe we’ll be back in the US in a week. Right? We’re flying to San Francisco next Saturday?”

She nudges his arm a little and he lifts it so she can tuck herself under it. “We are, yeah.”

He lets out a deep sigh that she feels reverberating through his entire body. “I know we have the whole road trip after that, but still… it feels like the end, sort of, getting back to the US. Or the beginning of the end.”

She could tell him that it’s not, but they both know that would be a lie.

“I’m sorry,” she offers instead, tightening her grip around him and burying her face against his neck. She knows that there are a bunch of tourists around, can hear the chatter, but in that moment, it doesn’t matter.

“I know,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her hair. “And I’m so grateful for… all of this, it’s been such an amazing experience. I just don’t… I don’t want it to be over.”

She blinks, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Me neither.”

They stay like that for a long while, the calm eye in the middle of a storm of tourists crowding around them, until Bellamy clears his throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the whole day down.”

She presses closer for another moment, trying to commit the smell of him to memory, before she pulls away and offers what she hopes passes for a smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies. “Anytime you need to talk, we’ll talk. OK?”

His mouth tugs up into an almost-smile as well. “I know.”

The sun has started to set when they get back down to the city, and Clarke pulls her phone out of her pocket to check Google Maps. “You want to walk back?” she then asks. “Get some fresh air.”

He gives her an amused look. “You mean as opposed to all the non-fresh air we’ve been getting all day?”

She elbows him lightly in the side. “I just thought… clear our heads a little. It takes about an hour and a half, but it’s not like we’re in a hurry or anything.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

So they wind their way through the streets of Laranjeiras, and Flamengo, and Botafogo. The city darkens around them as they walk, but it’s Saturday – not that Rio sleeps on any other days of the week, really – so in another way, it’s just waking up. They don’t meet a lot of obvious tourists, mostly locals, some dressed in the typical outfits for a night out, on their way to one of the samba or forro bars, or maybe for a beer and some food at the local botequin.

They walk mostly in silence, now and then commenting on something they pass, but not trying to keep a conversation going. When they’ve reached the park that’s the border between Botafogo and Copacabana, Clarke speaks up.

“So, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

Bellamy glances at her. “What are the options?”

She shrugs. “There’s a bunch of stuff to do here, so maybe not quite anything you want but close enough.”

“You had something in mind, though.”

“Not anything specific, but I have a couple of options.” He gives her a questioning look, so she continues. “Well, depending on the weather, we could just veg out on the beach, or at the pool.”

“The hotel has a pool?”

“Yeah, on the roof. Or we could head over to the Tijuca National Park, if we’re feeling, you know, out doorsy. Or we could check out my favorite neighborhood, Santa Teresa.”

He’s quiet for a moment, considering her suggestions. “Well, to be honest, I don’t think I’m up for hiking,” he then says. “So I’d rule out the national park, unless you really want to check it out?”

“No, that’s fine, I don’t mind skipping it.”

“I wouldn’t mind just lounging around the pool all day, but knowing myself, I might get bored after a few hours, so maybe we can start out there but keep the rest of the day open?”

She squeezes his hand. “Of course.”

Sunday ends up being another beautiful, sunny day with temperatures reaching well into the eighties, so they spend the morning at the pool on the roof but still get some sightseeing in later in the day, when they head to Santa Teresa for dinner.

Considering the short amount of time they had in the city, it feels like a pretty good visit.

-100-

Panama City isn’t much more than a blip – their flight is delayed, so they don’t get in until after dark, and then they’re at the airport again at seven in the morning not even two days later. But they do have time to check out the canal, which was the main draw, and even stroll around both Panama Viejo, which is the original settlement, and the newer old town, Casco Viejo, to satisfy Bellamy’s history requirement.

Their next stop, and the last one before they’re heading back to the US, is the city of Mérida on the Mexican Yucatán peninsula. They have two full days here, and since there’s nothing either of them really want to see in the actual city, they have two day trips planned.

The first one, on Thursday, takes them to the colonial city of Valladolid, with its beautiful architecture and historical buildings. They get some free time in the city, and after lunch they continue to a nearby cenote, a sinkhole with fresh water where they get to swim for a little while – which is kind of nice since the temperature has risen to around a hundred degrees. Their final stop is Izamal, a picturesque town that apparently has a strong Mayan history, where they get a first look at one of the old society’s pyramids.

The second tour is to Chichén Itzá, of course, the main reason they’re even here, and it’s really just a half-day tour in the afternoon. When they start to get close, Clarke can see some of the excitement she remembers from Rome and Athens in Bellamy’s eyes.

“You’re really looking forward to this, huh?” she asks, and he tears his eyes from the landscape on the other side of the bus window to smile a little sheepishly at her.

“Is it that obvious?”

“It is, but it’s nice.” When he frowns at her, she continues. “I mean, you got so excited when we were in Rome and Greece, I like seeing it again.”

“I’ve been excited about places since then, haven’t I?” he muses, clearly thinking about it.

“Not quite on this level,” she says.

“Maybe not… but those places were kind of special… and I was really excited about the _Lord of the Rings_ stuff.”

That’s true, now that he mentions it. Maybe Clarke was the one who was a little subdued during their time in New Zealand, after everything with Roan in Sydney…

“You’re right, I forgot about that,” she admits, squeezing his hand.

“And I promise I will be excited about a bunch of stuff during our road trip,” he continues, turning his attention back to the view. “I mean, Alcatraz is going to be really interesting, Las Vegas will obviously be cool, the Hoover Dam… trust me, you’re going to get sick of me acting like a kid on Christmas.”

She wants to tell him that she would never get sick of that, but she doesn’t want to bring the mood down, so she just leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes.

“I didn’t know there was so much more here than just the main temple,” Bellamy notes a little later, when they’re following their tour guide around the archaeological site. “I mean, I’ve read about the games court too, but that’s about it.”

They’re currently being introduced to something called Templo de los Guerreros, the Temple of the Warriors, which is another pyramid flanked by several rows of stone columns, supposedly depicting warriors. It mostly looks like large blocks of round stones stacked on top of each other to Clarke. Still impressive though, especially considering when they were created.

“Are you telling me you didn’t read everything you could get your hands on before we got here?” she asks amusedly and he rolls his eyes.

“You make it sound like I’ve done that for every single place we’ve been so far.”

“Haven’t you?”

“Shut up.”

She has to laugh at the slightly petulant hint to his voice. “You know I love when you argue with the tour guides.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

They spend the whole afternoon in the old Maya city, first getting a comprehensive tour of everything and then strolling around themselves for a while, checking out some of the sites again at their own pace.

“When’s the bus leaving?” Bellamy asks after they’ve grabbed some food at the restaurant in the visitor’s center. It’s a little after seven, and the sun has finally started to sink a little towards the horizon.

Right – Clarke has almost forgotten that he doesn’t know they’re staying for the light show after sunset.

“Not for a while, actually,” she tells him.

His eyebrows shoot up. “OK… you know I love historical stuff, but I’m pretty much set. And it’s not like we’ll be able to see much once it’s dark.”

She rolls her eyes. “It was going to be a surprise, but we’re staying for some sort of light show that’s supposed to start as soon as it’s dark enough.”

“Oh.” A slightly sheepish look replaces the questioning one on his face. “That does sound pretty cool.”

They get another quick tour after the sun sets but before darkness really falls, when their guide tells them more about Mayan astronomy, which Bellamy is much more familiar with, and to Clarke’s amusement, he pulls her along to the front of their group so he can pitch in with things he thinks the guide misses.

The light show isn’t as spectacular as some of the others they’ve seen over the last few months, but it’s still a nice end to the night.

They both doze a little on the way back to Mérida, the dark landscape soothing around them.

“So, last night outside the US,” she notes after a while. “You OK?”

He turns his head to face her, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he considers the question. “I think so, yeah. There’s a whole bunch of things I’m excited about during our road trip, so that’s something to look forward to. I honestly don’t know where that… mini freak out the other day came from, but I’m OK now.”

It’s her turn to frown. “You don’t need an excuse to freak out about any of this,” she tells him, voice coming out a little harsher than she planned, but Bellamy just smiles.

“I know. I just wasn’t expecting it myself, honestly, so it was a bit of a surprise. Ask me again when we’re getting closer to New York, that might be… worse. I’ve tried to do what you said before we left, focus on the trip, and it’s been working pretty well, but when we’re back there… just waiting, that’ll be…”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Clarke cuts him off. “Not if you don’t want that. I can schedule stuff to do every single day, if you want. Keep busy. There are so many places in the city I would love to show you.”

His eyes slide closed but he nods, mouth still quirked up in a small smile. “That sounds good.”

So that’s how she keeps her mind busy for the last half-hour of the drive, while Bellamy sleeps with his head on her shoulder.

-100-

They do explore Mérida a little on the last day, since their flight isn’t until the afternoon. When they checked into the hotel, the receptionist recommended a free walking tour that starts at the main square, just a couple of blocks from the hotel itself, at nine thirty each morning, and since they’ve finished breakfast by nine, they decide to give it a go.

It feels a little backward to get an introductory tour to a city they’re leaving in a few hours, but it’s still interesting, and they get to check out some beautiful buildings, bustling plazas and lush parks, as well as learn more about the city itself.

And then it’s time to leave. Clarke hadn’t really thought about it before Bellamy brought it up, but now that he has, it does kind of feel like some sort of ending, and she finds herself reluctant when they get to the airport. As if they can postpone the inevitable if they just… don’t go back.

As if fate cares about countries and borders.

She squares her shoulders and pushes on, leading the way through the entrance of the airport.

“Is everything OK?” Bellamy asks once they’ve gotten through security and are seated at their gate.

She glances up at him, finding him frowning slightly at her. “Yeah.” She pauses, runs a hand through her hair, considers how to put it. “I guess you got in my head, sort of. The whole… going back to the US thing. I know it’s… we have a four week road trip ahead of us, and it’s going to be a lot of fun but it’s still…”

Her eyes dart to his forehead where it feels like his Number is mocking her. 35, 35 it’s yelling. You’re running out of time.

He wraps an arm around her and pulls her in, and Clarke lets herself lean against him, closing her eyes. Not that it helps – the numbers are still flashing on the inside of her eyelids. “I know. Let’s just…” He huffs. “I don’t know, try to keep enjoying ourselves, I guess? Our eternal mantra.”

“That’s the plan, yeah. Maybe it’ll be better when we’re actually back in the country, this is just some sort of… hurdle.” She pulls away enough to be able to smile up at him. “I am really looking forward to showing you San Francisco. It’s definitely my second favorite place in the US, after New York.”

“And I’m looking forward to getting to discover the city with you,” he tells her. “We’re staying at your place, right? Not a hotel?”

They did initially have a hotel booked, but then Clarke got an email from the family that was renting her house that they were going to be moving out at the end of May, since the dad in the family had gotten a new job somewhere on the east coast, and instead of trying to find new tenants right away, she decided that they could make use of the empty house instead.

Also, it feels like a good idea to have somewhere she can escape to, if staying in New York ends up being too much after… everything. She can’t get relocated there, since she came from San Francisco before returning to New York last year, but she can hide out and grieve for a while, if she needs to get out.

“We are, yeah.”

“Is that place as daunting as your apartment in New York?” Bellamy asks.

“Daunting?” she replies with a huff of a laugh. “What do you mean ‘daunting’?”

He shrugs, a slightly sheepish look on his face. “Maybe not daunting… Overwhelming might be a better word? Just… the first time I was there, I still wasn’t sure what was going on or if you were actually even interested in me, and seeing your place… it was basically ‘OK, why would a girl who lives like this want to hang out with someone like me?’.”

His words wipe the last traces of the smile off her face. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

He shrugs. “No big deal, I got over it pretty quickly. But maybe give me a heads-up if this is going to be something similar.”

“I honestly don’t know,” she admits, thinking it over. “I mean, size-wise, it’s about the same, but the house is split over four floors, so it’s not as obvious, I guess. And it’s more… homey, I think. I mean, the apartment in New York is just that, a New York apartment, but this is a traditional Victorian house from nineteen-oh… three, maybe. Somewhere around there. I didn’t want to make it all contemporary and sleek, so it’s not. I don’t know if that answers your question?”

“How long have you had it?”

Clarke glances around quickly, making sure nobody’s listening to them. “I bought it in the late twenties, so ninety years or something like that. I mean, I’ve obviously only lived there for twenty years or so, all together, but it’s still home, just like my place in New York is. It doesn’t matter how long I’m away, it’s always nice to come home.”

There’s an almost wistful smile on his face when she stops speaking. “That must be nice.”

“It is,” she agrees. “I think you’ll like it. Unless you get overwhelmed.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I knew I would regret telling you that.”

“And still you did…”

“Trust me, I’m kicking myself right about now.”

She leans in close again, resting her head on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, it totally wasn’t obvious. You were cool as a cucumber.”

“Good to know.”

Talking about their first date brings back Clarke’s own memories of it, and she can’t keep a smile off her face. “You know, I was _so_ annoyed when you just took off that night.”

She feels him tense for a second or so. “You were?”

“Of course! After that kiss on Halloween, and then there was all this… sexual tension that night, I had certain… expectations, I guess.”

“Ah.” It’s impossible to discern anything from that, so she’s glad when he continues. “Sorry I disappointed you, it definitely wasn’t my intention.”

“I know. Raven said you were probably just trying to take things slow, since you thought I was getting over a bad breakup.”

Bellamy snorts at that. “You called _Raven_ after I left?”

“I was frustrated! She’s usually good at talking me through stuff.”

“That’s good, I guess. And yeah, that was basically what I was doing. But trust me…” He pauses to move slightly, so he’s speaking directly in her ear. “If I’d done what I really wanted that night, I would have followed you upstairs and fucked you until you never wanted to let me out of your bed again.”

The combination of the words and his breath tickling the skin on her throat makes her shiver, which he of course picks up on, if his low chuckle is anything to go by.

“Well, you got there eventually,” she notes, trying to keep her voice casual and failing miserably.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We got there eventually.”


	51. Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, guys – we’re back in the US! San Francisco is one of my favorite places, so I hope I’ve managed to do it justice…
> 
> I haven’t actually watched the latest episode yet, so if you could skip any spoilers in comments, that would be great – I think I might have already gotten one in a comment on the last chapter (though I’m really hoping not…)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)” by Scott McKenzie, of course
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

They don’t get into Oakland airport until ten that night, and by the time they’ve gotten through customs, collected their bags, picked up their rental car and driven across the bay and through the city to her place on Union Street, it’s well after midnight.

“You mind if I put off getting overwhelmed until the morning?” Bellamy mumbles as she unlocks the front door. “I mean, it looks impressive and all, but I think I’d appreciate it much more in daylight. And when I’m actually awake.”

Clarke chuckles and ushers him into the house ahead of her. “Sure, no problem.”

They leave their suitcases by the door, too tired to haul them up to the fourth floor, and she flips on the light in the sitting room off the entryway before guiding him towards the stairs.

The house is a little stuffy, even though she had her regular cleaning company give the place a thorough run-through yesterday, so she immediately opens the balcony doors in the master bedroom on the top floor, letting in the cool night air. She almost always sleeps with one of the windows cracked open, but she wants to let the room air out properly while they brush their teeth.

“Is that the Golden Gate?” Bellamy asks next to her, pointing at the bridge in question in the distance, lit up in the darkness.

“Yup. We’ll probably get a good view of the famous fog around it at some point, it’s usually pretty heavy in June.”

“Cool.” He pauses. “OK, I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Clarke just laughs and shoves him lightly in the direction of the en-suite bathroom. “Go be overwhelmed while you brush your teeth.”

He obliges without protest and they both get their teeth brushed and their faces washed before returning to the bedroom, which is noticeably cooler and fresher now. She closes the balcony doors again, opening the window next to the bed instead, before pulling the bedspread back.

“Come on, you’re practically asleep on your feet,” she says, nudging Bellamy with her elbow to get him to move.

He lets out a sigh and manages to get at least his khaki shorts off before sliding under the covers on the side of the bed that has become his over the last seven months. “We don’t have anything booked early tomorrow, right?” he murmurs when she gets in next to him after removing her own clothes, reaching out blindly for her. She moves until her back is against his chest and his arm wraps around her tightly.

“No, we don’t have anything set in stone tomorrow at all,” she replies, pulling the comforter up over both of them. “So we can sleep in as late as we want.”

“Good.”

Clarke’s not sure if it’s being back in what is basically her own bed, but it’s probably the best night’s sleep she’s had since they set out on the trip. Not that they haven’t slept in some spectacularly comfortable beds in the last five months, but there’s something special about being home.

She wakes up to the characteristic weak light San Francisco offers on foggy mornings, the air in the room slightly chilly against her face, but the rest of her nice and warm, wrapped up in the comforter and snuggled against Bellamy.

She doesn’t know how exactly he knows she’s awake, but apparently he does, because a minute or so after she opens her eyes, his hand slides around her waist and he pulls her tighter against him.

“Morning.”

His voice is still rough with sleep, so he can’t have been awake too long.

“Morning,” she replies, pushing back a little against him, testing the waters.

As she hoped, he groans and grinds his hips against her butt, morning wood evident.

“One of those mornings, huh?” he murmurs, sliding his hand up her stomach to her breasts, and she’s glad she got rid of everything but her panties last night.

“I’m sorry, did you suddenly develop a dislike of morning sex?” she shoots back before biting her lip when he tweaks a nipple between his fingers.

He chuckles low in her ear before sucking a bruise into her shoulder. “You know me better than that, Princess.”

Well, she certainly hopes she does.

Clarke lets him set the pace for a while, his lips exploring her throat and back, hand alternating between palming her breast and twirling her nipple, dick sliding against her butt. But they’re not going to get anywhere if they don’t get rid of some clothes, so when she’s finally too desperate for _something_ more to be able to think straight, she pushes her panties down, managing to get them off without having to move too much.

“That’s better,” Bellamy mumbles behind her, immediately trailing his hand down her chest and stomach to slide a finger inside her.

“Mmm, yeah,” she agrees, trying to arch her hips against the movement of his finger while also grinding back against his dick, which isn’t easy to coordinate with her already foggy brain.

He solves the problem for her after another moment, shifting back and pushing another finger inside her, and while she does miss the feel of him behind her, she can focus on just the feeling of his fingers teasing her, curling up just right, pushing her closer and closer to the edge…

Over the last few months, he’s gotten scarily good at anticipating her orgasm, and this time is no exception – just as Clarke feels the first telltale signs, he bites her neck lightly and circles her clit with his thumb, and she’s gone.

Bellamy guides her through it, thumb continuing to rub light circles against her clit, drawing it out, but when she starts to come down again, his hand disappears.

She’s about to object when she feels him move closer behind her again, lifting her leg to drape it over his, and then the tip of his dick rubs against her entrance.

She doesn’t trust her voice yet, so she just pushes back against him, and he takes the hint, moving forward to push inside her. She lets out a content sigh when he bottoms out and stills, and he slides one hand up her stomach to squeeze her breast lightly.

“Good?” he asks, voice husky, though not from sleep anymore.

“Mmm, awesome,” she confirms, reaching back to bury her fingers in his hair.

He chuckles at that and starts moving, keeping his thrusts slow but deep. When he shifts a little, the angle changes just that tiny bit that’s needed for him to hit that sweet spot inside her, and she moans at the feeling.

“That’s it, right there.”

He picks up his pace then, hitting the same spot over and over again, and it’s almost too much, the first hints of a second orgasm like flames licking her insides. When he adds a finger against her clit, she’s sure her nails must be digging into his scalp in a painful way, but he doesn’t seem to even notice, and a few minutes later they’re both tumbling over the edge within a few seconds of each other.

They stay still for a moment, both trying to catch their breaths, and then Clarke shifts, letting him slide out, and turns to face him.

“OK, can I request that as a wake-up call from now on?” she asks, still a little breathless. “Because I wouldn’t mind waking up like that every morning…”

Bellamy chuckles and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll do my best.”

She moves in for a kiss which he happily returns, slow and lazy. Then his stomach starts to rumble, reminding them both that they can’t actually stay in bed all day.

“Breakfast?” she suggests. “I asked a friend to pick up enough stuff we at least wouldn’t have to go shopping first thing in the morning.”

“Good thinking.”

They find some fresh fruit, eggs and bacon as well as bread in the kitchen and half an hour later, they’re seated on the balcony off the bedroom with their haul.

As Clarke suspected, the iconic San Francisco fog is hiding most of the Golden Gate from view, even if it has already started clearing a little as the sun rises and the temperature with it.

“Overwhelmed again?” she asks and Bellamy looks up at her, chewing on some bacon.

“I’m good for now,” he says once he’s swallowed, turning his attention to the view. “I mean, this place is amazing, but it’s like you said, it’s homier so it doesn’t feel as…”

“Daunting?” she interrupts and he rolls his eyes.

“You can stop making fun of me for that any time now.”

She laughs. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

After they finish their breakfast, they head out for a bit of introductory sightseeing, as Clarke calls it.

“Introductory sightseeing?” he questions when they’re in the car.

“Yeah, you know, like one of those hop-on hop-off bus tours,” she explains. “Except I know the city as well as I know New York, so it felt unnecessary to pay for something when I can just give you a tour myself. And this way we can stop wherever we want.”

Bellamy shakes his head, but the expression in his eyes is fond, and she can tell that he really enjoys the tour.

They start at Twin Peaks, which is a little touristy but still offers an excellent overview of the city, and then they basically just drive around. They’re doing deep dives in some areas later in the week, of course, but for now they just get a look at them, driving through Hunter’s Point and Mission District, Bernal Heights and Ingleside, stopping for lunch at a café in Sunset before climbing the beautiful tiled steps up to Grandview Park, which offers another amazing view of the city.

They bypass Golden Gate Park, since they’re planning on spending the afternoon there tomorrow, but zip through Castro and Haight-Ashbury before making a pit stop at the Painted Ladies. They skip downtown, since they’ll be spending all day Thursday there, exploring Chinatown and Union Square and everything else, and instead circle it, getting a look at the waterfront area before heading back through North Beach and Russian Hill, getting out of the car to walk down the serpentine part of Lombard Street. They wrap the day up at Clarke’s favorite Spanish restaurant down in Embarcadero, and don’t get home until pretty late.

“Good first day?” she asks when they’re in bed.

“It was great,” Bellamy assures her. “Best introductory sightseeing I’ve ever been on.”

She tries to elbow him in the side, but he just pulls her closer and, well, soon enough she has better things to focus on than his teasing…

-100-

Clarke had been looking forward to showing Bellamy San Francisco, and it is just as fun as she thought it would be, but it also feels like she’s a tourist too, which she hasn’t really been here for a long time.

She remembers when she arrived in San Francisco for the first time, just before the turn of the last century. It wasn’t her first posting in a large city, she’d been stationed in both New York and Boston by then, but there was still something about it that immediately caught her heart, just like New York had.

Exploring the city with Bellamy is sort of like rediscovering it herself, remembering all the things she’s always loved about it and discovering a few new ones too.

If she thought that Bellamy would let her actually having lived here stop him from researching the place himself, she’s sorely mistaken. They spend Monday morning strolling around Haight-Ashbury, checking out the different sights in the area, and then have a picnic lunch in Golden Gate Park where they while away the rest of the afternoon lounging in the sunshine, but when they’re heading home, he asks if she knows how to get to Marina Drive.

Which is how she gets her first look at the amazing Wave Organ, a huge sculpture where plastic pipes are used to make ‘music’ using the ocean waves.

“OK, so this isn’t quite as awesome as I thought it would be based on what I read about it,” he admits.

She straightens up from where she was listening to the ‘music’ from one of the pipes. “What do you mean? It’s really cool, I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

They stay to watch the sun set beyond the Golden Gate, and stop by the grocery store on the way back to the house, so Bellamy can cook a late dinner instead of them going out to eat, and it’s just so _nice_. Sure, the hotels and fancy restaurants they’ve visited during their trip have been fun, but just sitting at the small dining table in the nook by the windows, watching him putter around her kitchen, makes a pleasant warmth settle in Clarke’s stomach.

She just enjoys the view for a while, but when he gives her a second questioning look, she pulls her phone out of her pocket to have something to do.

“Hey, what are your grandparents’ names?” she asks, pulling up a browser window and navigating to a directory site.

Bellamy glances at her. “You met them, you don’t remember?”

She looks up so he can see her roll her eyes. “I meant your mom’s parents. I figured I might as well see if I can find something and, if not, send Raven the info so she can work her magic.”

“Oh.” He pauses, focusing on the pots on the stove for a moment. “Her dad’s name is Richard and her mom is Linda.”

“Blake, right? Your mom didn’t change her last name when she left home or anything?”

“No.”

Clarke plugs the first name into the search bar along with Chicago and waits as the result page loads. “OK, a few hits for Richard Blake in Chicago… how old would they be, your mom was born in… 1969, right?”

He nods. “Yeah. I’m not really sure, but she never said anything about them being particularly old when they had her, and I doubt they were teenagers or anything, so they would probably be in their mid to late seventies by now, maybe older. Born in the thirties or early forties, would be my guess.”

She hums, scrolling through the results. “OK, there’s one who’s in the right age range, but no mention of a relative called Linda.” She tries the search for Linda instead, just getting one hit. “And no Linda Blake who matches either. I suppose they might have gotten divorced at some point in the last thirty odd years, in which case that won’t really help… I’ll try the state too, maybe they moved out of the city or something.”

“You know they could have left the state too, right?” Bellamy pipes up from the stove, voice gentle. “Or the country, for all I know. Maybe they’re lounging around on a Mexican beach or something.”

She ignores him, changing the searches again. “No good hits there either. Maybe Florida? That’s where middle class people go when they retire, right?”

But there aren’t any promising hits there either.

“Are you going to keep searching all the states?” he asks when she says as much. “You know not everyone’s listed on those sites, and like you said, they could be divorced, or one of them could have died…”

Clarke sighs. “No, you’re right. They could be anywhere. I’ll just send the names to Raven, see what she can do.”

He just hums in agreement, focusing back on the cooking.

She switches to her message app, bringing up the conversation with Raven.

**If I give you a name,  
can you find someone?**

It’s the middle of the night in New York, but the speech bubble still pops up within moments. Then it disappears, and Clarke almost drops the phone when it actually starts ringing.

“You didn’t have to call,” she answers the phone. “Isn’t it almost one in the morning there? What are you even doing up?”

_“Hello to you too, babe,”_ Raven’s voice comes over the line. _“I had a late transfer, just got home a few minutes ago. How does it feel being back in the States?”_

Clarke covers the microphone with her hand. “I’ll take it outside, OK?” she says when Bellamy looks up. “Back soon.”

He nods and she opens the door to the patio and steps through.

“It’s been good so far,” she then says. “But it’s only been two days, we’ll see what happens when we… start getting closer to New York.”

Raven hums. _“Yeah, I see what you mean. So what’s this about finding someone? Who are we looking up?”_

Grateful for the subject change, Clarke launches into the story. “Bellamy’s grandparents, the American ones. They kicked his mom out of the house when she was sixteen, so he’s never met them and his mom never talked much about them, but we talked about it and decided that it would be worth it to at least try to find them, you know? They probably don’t even know they have grandkids, and it’s been a long time… even if they actually did mean to kick their daughter out, they could still be grateful to get to meet her children.”

_“Right, and all you have are their names?”_ Raven asks, kicking into action immediately.

“And his mom’s name, obviously, I don’t know if that helps. We know they lived in Chicago in the mid-eighties, but I didn’t get any promising hits online for just the names, so either they’re not listed, or they’ve moved.”

_“OK, just send me what you have, and I’ll do what I can. Just… how far do you want me to take this?”_

She doesn’t need to ask what Raven means – she doesn’t actually know exactly what Raven does when she ‘looks into’ something, but she knows that not all of it is what would be strictly classified as legal.

“I don’t know,” she says with a huff. “I mean, use all the resources you have, obviously, but don’t… do anything too out there.”

_“Got it,”_ Raven says. _“Minor hacking, OK, breaking into the Pentagon, big no-no.”_

“If you want to put it like that, yeah. Though maybe hit the brakes a few steps before trying to get into the Pentagon?”

Raven snorts. _“You don’t want me to have any fun. But seriously, I’m, like, seventy-five percent sure all I’ll have to do is bypass some genealogy website’s paywall. No government hacking required.”_

Clarke lets out a laugh at that. “OK, good to know. I’ll send you the names and whatever else Bellamy knows, and just let me know if you find something?”

_“Will do, babe. I’ll… talk to you soon, love you.”_

“Love you too, Rae.”

She hangs up the phone and sends a quick text message with the names, Bellamy’s mom’s name plus her year of birth and death, and, just to be thorough, Bellamy and Octavia’s full names and birth dates as well. She gets a thumbs up in response a moment later and goes back inside.

“Perfect timing,” Bellamy says when the door slides shut behind her. “Dinner’s ready.”

She smiles and lets him pull her chair out, and neither of them mention Raven or Bellamy’s grandparents for the rest of the night.

Tuesday is an intense day, which they spend mainly on Angel Island and Alcatraz. Clarke’s been to Alcatraz before, but never Angel Island, and it’s interesting, getting a good look at the old buildings and hearing more about the treatment of Asian immigrants in the early twentieth century.

And Alcatraz is… interesting. They get audio guides and follow them around the old prison island, but she watches Bellamy more than the old cells and displays, barely even hearing the voice droning away in her ear. He’s completely focused, listening intently, turning this way and that based on the instructions.

They stay for a little longer after returning the audio guides, strolling around the grounds outside the buildings.

“I wonder if anyone ever actually got away from here,” Bellamy muses when they’re waiting for the next boat.

“Don’t they say that even if someone escaped the prison, they would freeze to death or drown trying to swim to shore?” Clarke asks curiously.

“Well, yeah, but come on – isn’t that exactly what they’d want us to think if someone _did_ escape? Can’t have the public knowing someone actually fooled the system. And there are stories about those prisoners who were involved in the escape back in sixty-two, sightings and stuff…”

“There are still alleged sightings of Elvis,” she notes with a smile.

He rolls his eyes. “I know, I’m not saying any of it is true, I was just speculating.”

When they get back to the city, they grab a late lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon at Fisherman’s Wharf – they check out Pier 39 and its sea lions, peruse the collection of old arcade games at Musée Mécanique, and decide to walk back to the house by way of Ghirardelli Square, where they indulge in the ice cream shop’s famous hot fudge Sunday.

“I can see why you love San Francisco,” Bellamy says when they’re strolling along Van Ness on their way home.

“It is a wonderful city,” Clarke agrees. “And we haven’t even been downtown yet, I bet you’re going to love Chinatown and Union Square.”

“Looking forward to it.”

But before they get to that, they spend a day out of the city. They wait until rush hour is over on Wednesday and then cross Golden Gate Bridge to Marin County.

Clarke’s initial plan was to head straight to Muir Woods and spend the day strolling among the huge redwood trees, but Bellamy plugged a different address into the GPS back at the house, which brings them to Fort Baker, on the shore of the bay.

“How did you find this place?” she asks when they’ve parked and are walking along the water, San Francisco in the distance across the bay, the Golden Gate rising tall to their right. “I’ve never heard of it.”

He shrugs, raising Raven’s camera to snap a few more photos of the bridge – the fog hasn’t cleared all the way yet, but the sun is still shining down on them, creating fascinating effects on the water and in the fog. “I googled ‘best view of Golden Gate’ or something like that, this was one of the spots listed, and since we were practically passing it, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make a pit stop.”

“Excellent plan,” she agrees, tugging him with her along the rocky beach towards the far end of the small bay, where there are wooden stairs leading up onto the hill.

The higher ground gives them an amazing, 180 degree view of the bay, with the bridge to their right, San Francisco across the water and Belvedere Island to their left.

“Is that Alcatraz out there?” Bellamy asks, pointing ahead.

She looks where he’s indicating and nods. “Yup, that’s it. And Angel Island over there.”

They snap some more photos before slowly making their way back to the car. The fog has lifted a little more by now, the sun glinting off the surface of the water and the bridge.

It’s only another half hour to Muir Woods, where they park in the main parking lot before setting off along the paved trail. They talked about doing an actual hike, but as far as Clarke remembers from the time she did with Raven, Monty and Harper, it wasn’t actually more impressive than the trees they see along the path.

“Whoa,” Bellamy mumbles when they’ve gotten some ways into the woods, tilting his head back and turning in a circle. “I definitely see why they’re called giants…”

“Yeah, they’re definitely impressive,” she agrees, following his example and turning her eyes to the tree-tops.

They follow the trail for a while, making detours along some of the dirt tracks when something catches their eyes, not really in any hurry. They brought water and some protein bars, just so they wouldn’t have to worry about food, and eat them on a bench deep in the woods when they get hungry.

The hour-and-a-half route takes them about double that time, with all the detours they take, but it’s still only mid-afternoon when they’re back at the car.

“Do you mind making a stop on the way back?” Bellamy asks, sliding in behind the wheel.

“Where?” she asks, putting on her seat belt.

He just shoots her a quick smile. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “What’s with all the secrecy?”

“I just like surprising you now and then.”

They head back the way they came, but before they reach the Golden Gate, they’re instructed to leave the 101 and start weaving their way through the hilly landscape on this side of the bay before following the coast for a while, the bridge an impressive backdrop.

After fifteen minutes or so, Bellamy pulls into a small parking lot overlooking the water and city beyond.

“Where are we?” Clarke asks, but he just turns the engine off and opens the door.

“Come on.”

She doesn’t really have much choice but to follow him, not that she actually minds. She’s just not fond of surprises.

He seems to know where he’s going, taking a dirt path that seems to lead in the general direction of the ocean, and she catches up with him quickly, claiming his hand for the walk.

“You’re seriously not going to tell me?” she tries again after a moment.

Bellamy just laughs. “You’re going to find out in, like, two minutes,” he points out, not unreasonably. “You can’t wait?”

“I can,” she agrees. “I just don’t want to.”

“What are you going to do, open Google Maps?”

That hadn’t actually occurred to her, but it’s a good idea, so she pulls her phone out of her pocket.

“No, seriously, come on,” he says, snapping the phone out of her hand and stuffing it into his own pocket before tugging on her hand and speeding up a little. “It’s literally right up here.”

The path twists and turns, then starts sloping, now and then replaced by wooden stairs that don’t look particularly sturdy. Clarke figures out fairly quickly that they must be on the way to some sort of beach, but doesn’t realize just what type of beach until the final, steep decline that takes them the last few hundred yards down to the sand.

The _black_ sand.

“You found a black sand beach?” she asks, almost a little overwhelmed by the fact that he remembers.

Bellamy shrugs, some color rising on his neck. “We forgot about it back in New Zealand, and then it popped up on one of my Google searches for… I don’t even remember, things to do in San Francisco I guess. And we were heading almost this way anyway, so I figured…”

“I’m glad you did. Come on!”

They’re not alone on the beach, but it’s close, the only other people around are a man with a dog that’s at one end of the beach, not much more than a couple of dots on the horizon, and a couple of teenagers who are splashing each other in the shallow water some ways away, their laughter carrying over now and then.

Bellamy’s brought the backpack he stuffed in the trunk when they left the house this morning and now puts it down and opens it, producing a blanket.

“I was wondering why you didn’t take that with you up in the woods,” Clarke says, her voice only a little accusatory.

“I thought we’d probably like a snack right about now,” he replies, continuing to dig around the bag and coming up with two Ziploc bags of dried fruit she remembers wondering about when they were at the store the other day, another bag with what looks like assorted nuts, a jar of peanut butter, a packet of crackers and two sodas.

“Quite a spread,” she notes when they’ve sat down, accepting the bottle he hands her and twisting the cap open before taking a drink.

“Nothing but the best for my Princess,” he replies with a smile, opening the different bags and finding a knife in the outer pocket of the bag.

It’s not, objectively, the best meal she’s ever had, but something about the setting, the almost deserted beach around them, the sun reflecting in the water, and Bellamy’s obvious excitement that he not only managed to surprise her, but that she loves the surprise, all work together to make it an amazing experience that she just knows she’ll cherish for years to come.

They sit watching the water for a while after they’ve finished the food.

“I know we talked about actually swimming at a black sand beach,” Bellamy then says, “and the weather is nice but I doubt the water is, I’ve heard it’s always cold in the bay, and I honestly don’t really feel like getting in.”

“Oh, yeah, I wouldn’t recommend it. Plus, we didn’t bring swimwear.”

He actually smirks at that. “True. However, this is technically a nudist beach, so…”

As if on cue, they hear footsteps on the stairs about fifteen feet to their left, and then a middle-aged man comes into view. He’s wearing clothes, but stops a few feet from the water’s edge to pull the shirt over his head and drop the shorts, revealing nothing underneath. To Clarke’s enormous relief, he then walks straight into the ocean and dives into the waves.

Bellamy clears his throat next to her. “Like I said…”

She lets out an incredulous laugh. “Time to head out?”

“Good idea, preferably before he gets up…”

So they quickly pack up and start climbing the stairs again, and it’s not until they’re back in the car that they both break down laughing for a good five minutes.

“I can’t believe he just…” Clarke says when she’s finally gotten her laughter under control. “Like we weren’t even there!”

Bellamy shakes his head as he turns the key in the ignition. “I’ve never really gotten the nudist thing, but good for him, I guess. I just don’t want to _see_ it.”

“ _It_ being…” she teases, and he presses his lips together.

“Don’t make me laugh again, this road is way too narrow and serpentine for that.”

They have some food left over from last night, so they just warm that up for dinner once they’re back at the house, and then bring coffee to the balcony off the bedroom, watching the sunset wrapped in a blanket to keep from freezing in the cool evening air.

“I like this,” Clarke says when the sun has finally disappeared from view. “Watching the sunset.”

Bellamy presses a brief kiss to her temple. “Me too. Maybe we can make it a tradition.”

Her immediate reaction is that you can’t make a tradition in a month, but she tamps down on it and just snuggles closer.

“Sounds good, let’s do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content
> 
> I used whitepages.com to figure out if it was even possible to search for people anywhere in the US, if you’re curious


	52. Even If the Sun Crashes into Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update again, another busy week… But it’s Sunday evening and I don’t have anything I have to do, for a change, so new chapter!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Leaving California” by Maroon 5

Thursday, they finally get to actually see San Francisco, which was what Clarke was most looking forward to. They get an early start, getting an Uber as soon as they’ve had breakfast.

“I thought we were going downtown?” Bellamy says, looking around in confusion after they’re dropped off at the corner of Maritime Garden. “Didn’t we pass this place on our way back from Pier 39 the other day?”

“We did,” she confirms, pulling him along in the right direction. “You can’t visit San Francisco and not ride on a cable car, and my personal favorite is the green line, which runs from here to a couple of blocks from Union Square, so here we are.”

“Cool!”

As always, there’s a lot of people at the stop, but they get their tickets and manage to get on the first cable car that arrives.

“So why is this one your favorite?” he asks when they’ve started moving.

She shrugs. “It just feels like it sort of… embodies San Francisco, I guess. It starts down by the waterfront, there are a lot of hills, and we pass Lombard Street. I know we’ve already done that, but it’s still nice.”

And it is. The weather’s nice today too, even if the fog is still heavy over the bay and the chilly morning temperature hasn’t started rising quite yet. Clarke plays tour guide, talking about the different buildings and sights they pass along the way, earning a bit of a following when a group of British tourists on the rows ahead of them start listening and asking questions as well. By the time they reach the end of the line, most of the people call a thanks to her before getting off the cable car.

Bellamy’s chuckling slightly when they’re finally on the street themselves. “You’re right, that was fun,” he says with a smirk.

She elbows him in the side. “Shut up. Like you haven’t done the same thing, and that was when we had _actual_ tour guides too.”

“Touché.”

They stroll around Union Square for a while, admiring the iconic square and checking out some of the buildings around it. Bellamy’s especially interested in the skyscraper at 450 Sutter, which Clarke kind of remembers going up, back in the late twenties, so they take a slight detour past it on their way to the Dragon’s Gate.

Chinatown takes longer than the downtown area – they grab lunch at a little place that Clarke used to go to, where the man behind the counter actually remembers her (she sends her gratitude to some higher power that it’s only been a year since she left the city and it’s not strange that she hasn’t aged in that time), and then just wander up and down the streets lined by colorful signs, popping into stores when they feel like it. Bellamy has never tried deep fried ice cream, so they have that as a late dessert when they find a place that looks good, and then continue browsing.

It’s mid-afternoon when they finally reach the other edge of Chinatown, and Clarke pauses on the corner of Grant and Broadway. “Did you want to check out Coit Tower?” she asks, turning to Bellamy with a questioning look.

He glances at his clock. “We have time, so might as well. Unless there’s something else you’d rather do?”

“Nope,” she says, looping her arm through his and pulling him along towards Kearney Street. “So, that’s where we’re going,” she tells him when they reach the corner.

Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up. “I knew San Francisco was hilly, but that’s just ridiculous.”

She can’t help but laugh. “I know. And it’s not even the steepest street in the city.”

“It’s not? Which one is, and can we check that one out too? Though maybe do that one downhill…”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. I know there are a couple of different ones that sort of compete for the title, I’ll google it when we’re done here.”

It’s hard to say that the view from Pioneer Park is actually worth the climb, since they could have taken a cab or bus there, but to Clarke, it’s part of the San Francisco experience to climb at least one really steep street.

She’s still glad that there’s an elevator in the actual tower, though, so they at least don’t have to climb the stairs. They check out the murals before heading up to take in the view at the top – which is amazing, of course, especially since the fog has finally lifted and they get a clear panoramic view of the city and bay, all the way to the Richmond–San Rafael Bridge in the distance.

She’s leaning against the sill of one of the open windows, Bellamy behind her, resting his chin against her shoulder, when she feels him let out a long sigh.

“You OK?” she asks, turning her head to press a kiss to his cheek.

He turns as well, capturing her lips with his instead for a brief kiss before pulling away just slightly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Fine, I just… I kind of don’t want to leave.”

“I know what you mean,” she agrees. “I always feel that way when I’m at the end of a posting here… though to be fair, it’s the same in New York. They’re both home, you know.”

“Yeah.”

He moves back further, turning his attention back to the view, but not before Clarke’s eyes catch on his Number, and her breath catches in her throat.

She can’t believe she actually _forgot_ that today is the 27th. But it’s right there, in the blunt ‘30’ on Bellamy’s forehead.

He hears her sharp intake of breath, of course, turning back to her with a slight frown. “What’s wrong?”

They’re not alone, even if the tower isn’t as busy as it could have been, so she can’t just tell him. Instead, she reaches out to brush a few curls out of his eyes, thumb pausing just briefly over the numbers.

“I forgot that it’s the 27th today,” she says quietly, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat without success.

His face is blank for a split second, and then realization dawns, and he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs in her ear, and Clarke lets out a watery laugh.

“What are _you_ sorry for? None of this is your fault.”

He hums, arms tightening around her. “I can still be sorry you have to see the… reminder all the time.”

“I’ve honestly gotten pretty good at glancing over it,” she admits.

“Good.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, just holding onto each other, before Clarke speaks again. “I should… I need to go in the app so I can…”

“No,” he interrupts her, pulling away with a final squeeze. “It won’t be assigned for a few weeks, right? So you don’t have to do it now.”

She wants to say that it’s not like it’ll get any easier, but she doesn’t, taking the out he offers. “OK, I’ll wait a while.”

“Good.” Bellamy reaches out, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, and she leans into the touch. “You OK? Ready to head out?”

It’s not like she’ll feel better if they just take a cab back to the house and she hides under the covers for the rest of the day, so she forces a smile onto her face and nods.

They make their way back down and out, the sun still beaming down on them from a clear blue sky. “I feel like I brought the whole day down up there,” Clarke admits when they’re out in the open again. “So… Vegas day after tomorrow!” She puts more excitement into the words than she’s really feeling at the moment, but it seems to work.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely looking forward to that,” he says, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth up. “And, you know, everything else during our road trip.” He claims her hand, squeezing her fingers. “Bad moment over?”

She squeezes back. “Moment over.”

They pause at the bottom of the stairs to the park and she pulls her phone from her pocket. “OK, so like I thought, there are a couple of different streets, or parts of streets, claiming to be the steepest in the city,” she says when she’s pulled up a website with info. “One part of Filbert Street, which is this one, has a gradient of 31.5%, and there’s also a part of 22nd Street with the same incline. Then there are really steep pedestrian parts of Broderick Street and Baker Street and finally a small part of Bradford Street that’s supposed to have a gradient of 40%. You want to check all of them out?”

She looks up just in time to see Bellamy shrug. “A couple are enough. The Filbert Street one is pretty close, right? We can just do that one.”

She opens up Google Maps to check where exactly that is. “Yeah, that’s a twenty minute walk from here, according to Maps, and it’s on the way back to the house, about halfway. Broderick and Baker are just ten minutes or so from the house, but in the opposite direction, so maybe we can check those out later this evening. 22nd Street is down in Mission, and Bradford in Bernal Heights, so we’d have to take a cab or drive there.”

“Nah, that’s fine, let’s just do Filbert on the way home, and then we can check out those two that were nearby later, like you said, if we feel like it.”

“OK,” Clarke agrees, closing down the app before putting her phone away and claiming his hand again. “Come on then, Filbert Street is really hilly, I don’t know if I trust the time estimate…”

It ends up being more or less right, though, and they’re back at the house forty-five minutes later.

“I don’t know about you, but I need a shower after that work-out,” Bellamy announces as soon as the door closes behind them.

“That does sound good,” she agrees. “Want some company?”

By the time they finally get out of the shower, it’s after seven, and they call in a pizza order before taking a walk to the two steep streets a few blocks away, getting back in plenty of time before the delivery guy.

-100-

“Right, so we have a couple of options today,” Clarke says when they’ve packed up the car the next morning.

“Options?” Bellamy asks from the passenger seat.

“Just route wise,” she explains. “The sat nav wants me to either take the I-5, which would take about four, four and a half hours depending on traffic, or the CA-99, which is a little longer but still just around five hours. But since Bakersfield isn’t really a goal, more like a pit-stop, I think we should take the scenic route.”

He’s watching her with an expression that’s a sort of mix between bemused and fond when she finishes. “And what’s the scenic route?”

“Highway 1, along the coast. I’d probably skip the first stretch and get on down in Monterey, that way we’ll be passing the viewpoint with seals, which is pretty cool. I checked this morning and there haven’t been any landslides lately, so the road should be open. And Hearst Castle’s on the way, if you want to check it out?”

He considers the question for a moment and then shrugs. “Not a must for me, we can see what time it is when we get closer.”

“OK. Anyway, that route would take around seven hours total, but we’re getting an early start, so even if we take three or four hours longer than that, we’ll still get there by no later than seven.”

“And there’s nothing we want to do in Bakersfield? Or do we have time for that tomorrow?”

It’s Clarke’s turn to shrug. “Nothing that interesting. They have a pretty good art museum, but I was there not too long ago. Unless you found something you want to do? Don’t even pretend you didn’t look into it. The drive tomorrow’s only four and a half hours, not counting stops, so depending on when we want to be in Las Vegas, we have some time.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Nothing before or in Bakersfield, no, so we can do the scenic route.”

“Great.” She starts up the car and waits until they’ve left the city behind and are on the 101 heading south before she picks the topic up again. “So you said nothing before or in Bakersfield, I assume that means you have something _after_?”

Bellamy’s put his phone away again, but he seems to have memorized at least part of whatever list he has on there. “The world’s largest thermometer is supposedly in Baker, which is on the way between Bakersfield and Las Vegas, as far as I could tell.”

She honestly can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “You seriously looked up world’s largest tourist attractions?”

“So?” He sounds more amused than annoyed, so she doesn’t worry she’s offended him. “They’re part of the Great American Road Trip Experience, Princess.”

She bites her lip on another laugh. “Obviously. What other largest things do you have on there?”

“Right, so, we’re passing a town called Kingman on the way between the Hoover Dam and Grand Canyon,” he starts. “There’s a motel called El Trovatore, with the world’s longest map of Route 66. Seems fitting, since we’ll be driving along it for a while. They also have what looks like a pretty cool neon sign, so bonus. Between Grand Canyon and Roswell, there’s the Barringer Crater – not a world’s largest thing, but it’s only, like, three miles from Route 66 and it sounded cool – and in Holbrook, there’s the world’s largest petrified tree. Or tree stump, it looks like. But that seems to be visible from the road, so we won’t have to go off track for that.”

It’s obvious that he’s trying to hide his excitement, so Clarke reaches over to squeeze his thigh without taking her eyes off the road. “I actually had the crater on my list. And I think the longest drives we have planned are around eight hours, we have time for some detours and stops along the way.”

That seems to be all the encouragement he needs and he continues listing the things he has on his list with more enthusiasm, from the world’s largest fire hydrant in Beaumont, Texas, to the world’s largest clothes pin in Philadelphia.

They stay on the 101 until they get to Salinas, where they take the 68 to Monterey and finally get on Highway 1. She starts glancing at Bellamy every few minutes long before they actually reach the coast, wanting to catch his reaction to the first full on view of the ocean. She’s always loved this stretch of the road, the little glimpses of water, almost like it’s teasing you, through Carmel Meadows, and then the vast expanse of it when the trees give way to Monastery Beach.

“Amazing,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the sand and sea beyond. The sun is already high in the sky, despite it only being a little after ten in the morning, but the beach is basically deserted, the only occupants a couple walking along the water’s edge and some seagulls flocking on some driftwood.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Clarke agrees, turning her attention fully to the road.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” When the road cuts inland again, he turns from the window with a frown. “I thought we’d be driving along the coast?”

“We are, more or less,” she replies. “But we won’t actually get close to the water for a while, it’s pretty hilly for the first few hours. But the views… they’re absolutely breathtaking. You’ll see soon, trust me.”

She catches his sharp intake of breath at the spot where she knows he must get the first proper look at the ocean and cliffs tumbling into it, and she pulls over in a small parking spot to let him get a closer look.

“I get why you wanted to take this route,” he says after they’ve admired the view for a long, silent moment. “This is… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“I know what you mean.”

They stay for a few minutes longer before getting back in the car and continuing on their way. Now and then, she catches Bellamy’s eyes widening or a quiet ‘wow’ escaping him, and she’s infinitely glad that she insisted on driving so he wouldn’t have to focus on the road.

He should get to experience this.

Since Clarke knows there’s not a lot of options for getting something to eat along Highway 1, they packed a cooler with sandwiches and drinks before leaving San Francisco, and they don’t stop – apart from a few more brief breaks at viewing points – until they get to the elephant seal vista point a little before noon.

There isn’t really anywhere good to sit, so they eat their lunch in the car before getting out to check the place out.

The beach below the parking area is full of seals sunning themselves, big fins flopping now and then. They follow the wooden path to the end, where they’re even closer to the large animals, and lean against the railing.

“So is this more what you were imagining?” Clarke asks after a while. “The road running right along the ocean.”

Bellamy nods slowly next to her, eyes fixed somewhere on the horizon. “Yeah, this is pretty much what I had in mind. It sort of looks like one big wave can wash the whole road away.”

“I don’t know about waves, but parts of it do get washed away now and then,” she replies. “Mud slides and stuff.”

“Right.” There’s some scuffle below and they look down to see two of the large seals squaring off in some sort of turf war. “They’re really huge, huh? I didn’t think seals were…” He’s interrupted when one of the animals opens its mouth and roars, and they turn to each other, just staring for a moment, before they both crack up and start laughing.

“Should we take that as our cue to leave?” Clarke asks when she’s finally pulled herself together again, wiping away a lone tear that escaped during her laughing fit.

“Might be best, yeah.”

So they make their way back towards the parking lot and continue on their way, leaving the coast behind soon after and cutting through the rolling hills on the 46.

“So why Bakersfield?” Bellamy asks some time later. “I know it’s just a pit stop, but any reason in particular you picked that city and not somewhere else?”

She shrugs, checking the mirrors before changing lanes to pass an RV. “I wanted to get, like, two thirds of the drive out of the way today, since we have a few stops tomorrow. Bakersfield was just in the right place, honestly.”

He nods. “So what are our stops tomorrow?”

“Calico,” she starts. “An old silver mining town that’s been abandoned since the turn of the last century or so. I was actually there, once, just before it was deserted completely. It’s a county park or something now, but I’ve heard it’s still pretty cool. And then we’re passing just ten minutes from… my home town, I guess. Arcadia, where I spent my first six years as a Keeper. I usually at least make a brief stop there whenever I’m in the area, even if there isn’t much left.” She pauses, glances at him and smiles when she finds him already watching her. “And I wanted to show you where I’m from, sort of. The house me and Raven and Finn lived in is long gone, of course, but it’s still a little like going home, I guess. And then I thought we’d take a look at Seven Magic Mountains, I haven’t had a chance to go there since they went up.”

“OK, sounds good,” he says, turning his attention back to the view out the windscreen. “And we have, what, four hours left or something?”

“Four, four and a half maybe, depending on traffic,” she confirms.

“Great, so even if we don’t rush, we should still be in Vegas by… four or five in the afternoon, with the stops?”

Clarke wants to say that she knows him pretty well by now, and there’s something in his voice – something she can’t quite pinpoint – that makes her sure he’s not just asking out of general curiosity. It’s the same kind of feeling she had in Clovelly, which turned out to be right. “Why?” she asks, wishing that she wasn’t driving so she could watch his face for a reaction.

“Just trying to get an idea of what the day will look like,” he replies, voice light, and maybe she’s just imagining things.

“Oh. Well, we should be there by late afternoon, unless traffic is absolutely horrible.”

“Great.”

Since they’re just passing through Bakersfield, Clarke booked a hotel on their route, on the eastern edge of the city. They reach it just as the sun is approaching the horizon, and don’t bother to do much more than check in and drop their bags off before finding the on-site restaurant for some food. After, they while away a couple of hours watching TV and then having sex, but they’re both more or less asleep by eleven, and decide to just give in.

It won’t hurt to get an early start in the morning, after all.

-100-

They’re back on the road even earlier than Clarke was hoping, merging onto the 58 a little after eight thirty. Bellamy’s behind the wheel this time, after arguing that he doesn’t want her to be completely exhausted when they finally reach Las Vegas. After a brief discussion, they compromised, and he agreed to switch when they get to Seven Magic Mountains, so he doesn’t have to focus on the road when they actually get to Sin City.

They soon leave Bakersfield behind, the urban landscape giving way first to rolling hills and then the vast emptiness of the Mojave, chollas and the occasional Joshua tree lining their way.

“You know, this isn’t really how I pictured California,” Bellamy notes.

“It’s the Mojave desert,” she points out, voice amused. “And we’re pretty close to the Nevada border, is that better?”

He chuckles next to her. “Much better. Are we getting closer to Calico?”

“Obviously, we’ve been getting closer to it all day,” she replies innocently, ignoring the look he throws her way. They pass a sign for Barstow City Limits then. “We’re getting off the highway a little after Barstow, so maybe five minutes? Exit towards Ghost Town Road.”

“ _That’s_ easy to remember,” he says with a snort.

They reach the exit a few minutes later, and then they’re on one of those roads that pop up in every single road trip movie ever – running straight ahead, seemingly infinitely, without a single twist or turn. Clarke can tell from the sat nav that it will turn in a mile or so, but right now it feels like it’s leading them straight into the wilderness.

“Is that it?” Bellamy asks a few minutes later, pulling her attention to the road ahead, and she squints at the hills where large letters spell out the city name.

“That’s it,” she confirms.

The parking lot is already almost full – it is only a little after ten in the morning, but it’s also a Saturday in late June – but they manage to find a spot.

“OK, so I haven’t actually been here since it opened as an official tourist attraction,” Clarke says when they start on the paved road that runs through the actual town. “I’ve read both good and bad reviews, so maybe just… don’t expect an actual replica of what an old silver mining town would have looked like back in the nineteenth century?”

He glances at her with an amused smile. “Are you worried I’ll be disappointed it doesn’t live up to my expectations? I did look into it myself, you know. I know it’s not going to be like stepping back in time or anything.”

“See, you _say_ that, but I’m still expecting a lot of ‘this wouldn’t have looked like that’ and ‘they never would have done this’.”

He pinches her side a little. “I thought you liked it when I went off on historical rants?”

She does, of course, but she’s not going to tell him that, so she just rolls her eyes and pulls him along into the first building they get to, which is a leatherworks store.

Of course, try as he might, Bellamy can’t actually stay completely quiet about the historical inaccuracies, but on the whole, he seems to enjoy the experience. He poses with the skeleton in the fake prison cell with a wry smile, is genuinely fascinated by all the odds and ends in the old general store, and is actually the one to suggest they try gold panning, which is kind of fun.

They take a brief tour of the old mine and stop at the cemetery before heading off again.

“Fun?” Clarke asks when she’s plugged their next destination into the sat nav and leaned back in her seat.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I had fun. I don’t need everything to be completely historically accurate, you know?”

“And yet you complain…”

He ignores her, turning the radio up, but she can see the smile still playing on his lips.

It’s another hour to Arcadia, or what’s left of it. Unlike some cities and towns in the area, it hasn’t completely died out, but it’s probably just a matter of time. About half the houses look abandoned, some boarded up and others with smashed windows. The house Clarke lived in is long gone, of course, and the house that’s standing in its place looks a little worse for wear, but it has lace curtains in the windows, one of which is open to let in a non-existent breeze.

Bellamy pulls onto the side of the road and kills the engine.

“So this is basically your childhood home, huh?”

She rolls her window down and sucks in a lungful of warm, dry air. “It’s not the actual house, but as close as I can get, yeah.”

“I’m guessing the town was a little more… lively back then?”

“It was, though not by that much,” she replies with a laugh. “There were some mines in the area, and a couple of farms, but we were covering a pretty large area. They like starting you off in smaller places, easing you into it, I guess. Or they used to, it’s been a while since I was in charge of a new Keeper so I don’t actually know how it works these days.”

He hums, taking the keys out of the ignition. “Well, come on, show me around.”

So they stroll around a little, Clarke showing him where the general store, the post office and the stop for the stagecoach used to be. When they get back to the car, there’s an old woman leaning against the fence next to it, watching them with open curiosity.

“Hi there,” Bellamy greets her when they’re close enough.

“Hello,” she replies, voice like paper. “It’s not often we get strangers in this part of the world.”

Clarke offers her a smile. “My family is from here originally. Or at least part of it – my great great great grandmother was born here back in the nineteenth century.”

The old woman’s eyes light up at that. “Here in Arcadia? My family has lived here for generations, what was her last name?”

For a moment, Clarke panics, wondering if this woman could possibly know who she was. Then she remembers that even if she’s in her nineties, she wasn’t born until at least fifty years after Clarke left Arcadia.

“Griffin, but I doubt you’ll have heard much about them. She moved away when she got married and her parents left a few years later.”

The woman’s face clouds over again. “I can’t say I recognize that name, no…”

“That doesn’t surprise me, but she did live in the house that used to be right here. The Collins’ farm? I think it was torn down and replaced at some point in the twenties or thirties.”

“Oh, yes, I remember the Collins’ farm, though I don’t think any Collinses lived there when I knew it… we used to filch apples and pears from the trees in the back until they were cut down when the house was demolished, so… thirty-eight, maybe? I know it was just before the war, anyway. But where are my manners – would you like to come in for something cold to drink? It is awfully hot today.”

Maybe they should say no. It’s not like it’s Clarke’s actual old home, it’s just a house standing in the same spot. But still… she glances at Bellamy, who just shrugs to indicate it’s her decision, and turns back to the woman with a smile. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

The old woman opens the gate and waves them through, and they follow her into the house. She introduces herself as Gladys Trenton, a name Clarke doesn’t remember from her time in the town, but maybe her husband’s family moved in later.

When she, Raven and Finn lived here, they only had the one main room and two small bedrooms, plus the outhouse in the back – the new house is larger, a big sitting room opening up right inside the door, with a hallway leading off to the right to bedrooms, presumably, and a kitchen through an archway across from the entrance.

Gladys tells them to look around while she takes care of the refreshments, so they’re free to explore on their own.

“I think our whole house would fit in just this room,” Clarke says quietly, glancing around the sitting room. She doubts Gladys can hear her from the other side of the house, but still.

“It must be strange being here, with this new house in its place,” Bellamy notes, squeezing her hand which he hasn’t let go of since they entered the house.

“Yeah, but it’s good, you know?” she replies with a shrug. “I know our place wasn’t made for the twenty-first century, probably not even the twentieth… Finn built it the year before I joined them, and we had a couple of cows and some chicken, a bunch of fruit trees… I think he’d like knowing it’s still someone’s home, in a way.”

They check out the hallway and three bedrooms just so Gladys won’t wonder why they’re just staying in the sitting room, returning just as she emerges from the kitchen with a tray, and spend another half-hour listening to her stories about the town.

They do stay longer than Clarke had planned, but they’re still back on the road by a little before one in the afternoon. They stop for lunch in Baker before getting back on the I-15, and reach Seven Magic Mountains around two thirty.

The installation is just as impressive as she thought it would be, and they stroll around the huge pieces for a while, Bellamy using Raven’s camera to play with angles and perspective before they get the mandatory selfie and Clarke posts it to her Facebook.

They manage to find rush hour when they get closer to the city, but Clarke’s actually glad, since it means they’re barely moving and she doesn’t have to feel bad for watching Bellamy take in the place for the first time. Still, when they’ve been stuck just before the exit to Tropicana for ten minutes, and have had plenty of time to admire Mandalay Bay, Luxor and Excalibur up close, as well as the skyline ahead, she decides to get off the highway – which is looking more like a parking lot, seriously – and makes it to the hotel in ten minutes on back roads.

She’s never actually stayed in Caesar’s Palace before, but the sat nav brings them to the main entrance where she hands the keys over to a valet.

“Whoa…” Bellamy breathes when they’ve entered the hotel.

“Yeah,” she agrees, trying to find a word for it. “It’s…”

“A little much,” he finishes for her and she lets out a relieved laugh.

“Right?”

The floor is marble, of course, and there’s a huge fountain in front of them, with columns here and there, frescoes on all the walls and the ceiling. It’s tastefully done, of course, but yeah – a little much.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get checked in.”

Bellamy’s face when the receptionist tells them they’re in the Augustus tower is definitely worth the effort of keeping that secret until now, and the room is amazing, of course. He’s immediately drawn to the window, where the Bellagio fountain is glittering far below.

“What time is the fountain show?” he asks after a moment, glancing at her over his shoulder.

Clarke did actually take a screen shot of the fountain schedule, so she flops down in an armchair and pulls her phone out. “Today, it’s every thirty minutes from noon to seven and then every fifteen minutes until midnight,” she reads. “Tomorrow, it’s every thirty minutes between eleven and seven and then every fifteen minutes until midnight, and the rest of the week it’s every thirty minutes from three to eight and then every fifteen minutes until midnight again.”

“So we’ll have plenty of opportunities to catch it,” he concludes, crossing the room back to where she’s sitting and claiming a seat on the sofa. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind enjoying the AC for a while. It’s bound to get a little cooler after sunset, right? Or do you want to check out the Strip right away?”

“AC is good,” she agrees. “We can just relax for a bit and then check out the rest of the hotel, maybe grab something to eat, and then the Strip?”

“Good plan.”

So they lounge around for a while, both on their phones. They catch the fountain show at five, and then decide to start getting ready, and by six, they’re back down in the grand lobby.

“So what is there to do in the actual hotel?” Bellamy asks. “I mean, apart from the casino, of course.”

Clarke can’t help the smile on her face. “Oh, you are in for a treat…”

They check out the casino, trying out the slot machines and craps table, but don’t stay long, instead wandering into The Forum Shops, where Bellamy’s jaw drops.

“This is… it’s like being outside.”

“I know, it’s… it kind of messes with your head, honestly, if you’re here long enough.”

They stroll around for an hour or so, exploring the streets and buildings and fountains, before grabbing dinner at The Cheesecake Factory.

“So you want to risk going outside now?” Bellamy asks when they’re done. “The sun should have set by now, I think.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

The sun has set when they finally make their way outside – seriously, the hotel is like a maze or something – and they catch the fountain show again at eight fifteen before crossing the street at the Miracle Mile Shops.

“We’ll have to check that out some day,” Clarke says with a nod to the mall. “It’s laid out the same way the hotel is, making it feel like you’re outside. And the Venetian, of course, they actually have a canal inside the hotel, and a replica of St. Mark’s Square, we’ll have to compare it to the real deal.”

“Like you said, we have all week,” he replies with a smile. “Come on, I want to check out the Eiffel Tower.”

All the lights along the Strip have come on by now, giving the place an even more surreal look than in daylight, and the new light show on the replica of the Parisian tower starts up as they approach it.

Which almost – just almost – distracts Clarke from noticing a person in the crowd that really shouldn’t be here.

“Raven?”

The woman in question smirks at her from a few feet away. “Surprise!”

That’s the understatement of the century, and it’s only magnified when she takes in the rest of the group – Zeke, of course, she could have figured out, but there’s also Miller and Jackson and Octavia and Lincoln.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asks, confused. “Bellamy, what’s…”

She doesn’t finish the question, because when she turns to ask him what’s happening, he’s down on one knee in front of her, an open velvet box in one hand and a nervous expression on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwa ha ha, cliffhanger, I know… No, there’s no town called Arcadia on the California-Nevada border, at least not where I put it. There is an Arcadia in Los Angeles, but that didn’t get its name until the early 20th century, so I figured if I couldn’t use an existing town correctly, I might as well make up my own!


	53. Your Love Is a Melody, Underneath Me, Running Through Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger ;) picking up where we left off, obviously. I don’t know if anyone figured out this was coming? I’ve been dropping hints for a while, actually, but maybe I was too subtle… 
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Your Love Is a Song” by Switchfoot
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

For a moment, it’s like the world around them stops, even with the thousands of other tourists on the Strip, the lights and sounds all around them. There’s just the two of them, nothing else matters.

Then Bellamy clears his throat. “So I kind of missed the opportunity at the real deal,” he starts, voice shaking slightly. “But I figured this would work just as well. So, what do you say, Princess? Marry me?”

Clarke has no idea what her face is doing at the moment, but he still looks so nervous, so she makes a huge effort to get her muscles under control and smile. “Of course!”

The relief in his eyes is instantaneous, and then he’s on his feet, sweeping her into his arms and twirling her around. She’s vaguely aware of people cheering and realizes that they’ve probably attracted the attention of this part of the Strip, but she really doesn’t care.

“Did you really think I would say no?” she asks when he’s finally put her down again.

“Not really, but it’s easy to second guess yourself in the actual moment,” he replies with a smile.

“Well, you can stop that right now,” she tells him, holding out her hand for him to put the ring on.

“It was Mom’s,” Octavia’s voice comes from next to her and she turns to face the other girl. “Hi, by the way. Good surprise?”

“The best.” She wraps Octavia in a hug, and then she’s passed around to the others, until everyone’s had a chance to hug and congratulate both of them.

“Were you seriously going to propose at the actual Eiffel Tower?” Raven asks.

Clarke looks up at Bellamy expectantly and he shrugs. “I didn’t plan it or anything, but I was carrying the ring around in my pocket just in case a good moment presented itself, and it did… and then someone else beat me to it.”

She remembers the moment, and it’s not exactly hard to imagine him doing it then.

“But I think this is a little less cliché,” he adds, looking down at her. “Right?”

“I don’t care about cliché,” she assures him. “I would have said yes whenever and wherever you asked.”

His arm sneaks around her waist to pull her against him. “Good to know.”

“OK,” Raven declares, clapping her hands together. “Are we doing the Strip or are we talking wedding? Because everything is planned, all you two need to do is show up. Do you want it to be a surprise?”

Clarke frowns at her. “You actually planned a wedding for us?”

“Of course I did,” Raven replies with a supremely unimpressed look. “Did you think all six of us flew out here for a proposal? When Bellamy called me about it, I told him I’d take care of everything. But let me tell you – a month is not a lot of time to get together a Vegas wedding that isn’t, well, a _Vegas_ _wedding_ , if you get what I mean. But I found an actual nice, no-Elvis-impersonator place that had an opening on Monday, so here we are.”

“Unless you want to wait,” Bellamy hurries to add. “We wouldn’t get the deposit back, but we did this without even talking to you, you can say no.”

“No!” Clarke exclaims. “I mean, not ‘no, I don’t want to do it on Monday’, ‘no, I don’t want to say no’. Let’s do it. Everyone’s here and staying until then, I assume, so… yeah. Plus, we don’t have to plan anything.”

He chuckles at that. “Yeah, I was kind of hoping you’d say that. Not that I wouldn’t plan something else if that’s what you really wanted, but…”

“Much easier this way,” she agreed. “So when exactly did you call Raven? And how did I miss it?”

He shrugs. “It was back in New Zealand, our first night in Rotorua, when you went to get food. It was a good thing Raven was already onboard, I really wouldn’t have had time to convince her and call O before you got back.”

“Honestly, I was half-expecting to get a text at any moment saying you two got hitched somewhere on the trip,” Raven pipes in again. “So, yeah, we talked for, what, three minutes? Just long enough to figure out the timing.”

“And then he called me,” Octavia adds. “And I called Miller, who was also totally waiting for it.”

Miller snorts. “Please, have you _met_ them? I knew it was a lost cause the first time I saw the two of them together.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Octavia agrees, and it’s kind of nice to know that even the friends who don’t know the whole story, all the extenuating circumstances, called it. Then she continues, “Why do you think I gave him the ring?”

“I was wondering about that,” Miller says. “I remember you being pissed because you thought you lost it when you moved into my place. But O had it all along?”

Octavia looks a little embarrassed at being called out. “I kind of took it when I left. Dick move, I know, I already apologized. So really, it was lucky Clarke got in touch with me!”

Bellamy reaches out to ruffle his sister’s hair and then wraps his free arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, _that’s_ the only reason I’m glad we got to see each other again.”

“I knew it!”

After another push from Raven, they do finally start along the Strip, but Clarke is distracted, to say the least. To her relief, Lincoln seems to pick up on it after a while.

“I know it’s not that late yet,” he starts when they’re stopped on the bridge leading to the Venetian, admiring the manmade canal with its gondolas below, “but we’re still on Dublin time, and we’ve been awake for… going on twenty-seven hours now, so I think we might call it a night.”

Octavia immediately pouts. “Come on, babe, it’s our first night in Vegas!”

“And we’ll have more nights,” he reasons calmly. “And everyone else, except Bellamy and Clarke, are on east coast time, so I’m sure they’re getting tired as well.”

Miller seems to pick up on what he’s trying to do and joins the conversation. “Yeah, I think we’ll go with you, Jackson had the night shift last night, I actually picked him up at the hospital on the way to the airport this morning.”

Octavia still looks like she might argue, but Zeke puts the final nail in the coffin. “Aren’t we getting an early start tomorrow as well? I kind of stopped listening after I heard the word ‘wedding dress’ earlier, but you are going shopping, right?”

“We are?” Clarke asks, raising her eyebrows at Raven.

“Of course we are. I know what you packed for this trip – trust me, you do _not_ have a dress appropriate for a wedding in there.”

She kind of wants to argue, but honestly, she doesn’t want to get married in any of the clothes she packed. Not that she wants some traditional wedding dress either, but they can probably find some sort of middle ground. This is the wedding capital of the world, after all.

“Fine,” Octavia huffs. “But I want to check out your room, it’s on the way back to our hotel, right?”

“We can do that,” Lincoln promises, taking her hand and pulling her back down the Strip, Miller and Jackson falling in step with them.

“You’re not staying at Caesar’s with us?” Clarke asks as they bring up the rear.

Raven rolls her eyes. “ _Someone_ gave me a budget.”

“Excuse me for not wanting you to spend five grand on hotels for you guys, my sister and best friend,” Bellamy retorts, sounding anything but sorry. “You were already paying for the flights and everything else.”

“I tried to tell him it’s my wedding present, but nope. But we’re just a block from the Strip, along Flamingo, so pretty close.”

It does feel a little wrong to be going back to their hotel when the Strip is just waking up properly, but Clarke is exhausted, both physically – it’s been a long day – and emotionally after first a trip down memory lane in Arcadia and then an _actual proposal_.

It still hasn’t quite sunk in.

Octavia oohs and aahs over the hotel and their room, but Lincoln soon bustles her along and then they’re finally alone.

It’s ironic that Clarke’s been dying to get Bellamy alone all night, considering it’s been basically just the two of them for the last six months.

“Are you OK?” he asks when he’s closed the door behind his sister and their friends.

She flops down on the bed. “I think so. I still can’t believe you actually _did_ that.”

She hears his footsteps cross the room and feels the bed dip as he sits down next to her. “Can’t believe as in…” The hesitation in his voice makes her roll onto her side so she can look at him, and there’s the unsure expression on his face again. “I wasn’t really planning to spring this on you like that, I was going to run it by you first, but Raven somehow convinced me to do a grand gesture… if you just said yes to not embarrass me in front of all the people out there, you can tell me. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

He’s not looking at her when he finishes, instead focused on the bedspread, picking at a loose thread. Clarke gently disentangles his fingers and interlaces them with her own and waits until he looks up at her.

“I know I must have looked… surprised,” she says, and he snorts.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Fine. But… I really wasn’t expecting this, so it was a bit of a shock. A _good_ one. And it was perfect, OK?”

Bellamy still looks doubtful. “You sure?”

“I told you, I would have said yes anywhere, anytime. But I do kind of like the throwback to Paris…”

“Good.” Finally, the frown lines disappear and a smile tugs the corners of his mouth up. “So we’re getting married.”

She feels a matching smile spread on her own face. “We are. Did you actually call Raven to get help planning it, or was that just a bonus?”

“Bonus. I called her to make sure we actually _could_ get married.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to frown. “Why did you think we couldn’t?”

“Just, you know, the legal aspect,” he clarifies. “I know you get new identities for every posting, I wasn’t sure how authentic they were.”

“Oh. Yeah, we’re fully… authentic, or whatever. Legal citizens in every way. We can definitely get married, Raven and Zeke did back in… ninety-eight. These days, they just start out married, but still.”

“Yeah, she told me.”

She tugs on his hand a little, and he takes the hint to lie down next to her.

“I still can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” she says, shaking her head.

Bellamy half-shrugs. “It honestly wasn’t that much trouble. After I talked to Raven, she took care of all of that, and Octavia talked to Miller. He did rib me a little by email, but that’s par for the course, really.”

She lifts her hand to be able to study the ring a little more closely, the light reflecting in the small, blue stone. “Are you sure you want me to have this? I mean, shouldn’t it go to Octavia?”

“It was the ring my dad gave my mom, it’s been in his family for a long time,” he explains. “They never actually got married, but he did propose. Even if O wanted it, it’s not really her family heirloom, you know. And I want you to… to have something. For however long you want it.”

She knows what he’s trying to get at but she really doesn’t want to think about that tonight. So she scoots closer, brushing her lips against his briefly. “Always.”

-100-

Clarke wasn’t really expecting Octavia and Raven to let them sleep in the next morning – hoping, maybe, but not expecting. And, sure enough, there’s a loud knock on the door just as Bellamy turns the shower on in the bathroom.

She’s flat on her back in the middle of the bed, still trying to catch her breath from her orgasm a few minutes ago, the AC rapidly cooling the sweat on her skin, but she reluctantly gets up and pulls on a hotel robe before going to get the door.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Octavia greets her, swooping into the room. “Oh, good, I was a little worried we might catch Bell naked or something.”

“You would have if you’d gotten here five minutes ago,” Clarke mutters, closing the door behind Raven. “It’s not even nine, what’s the rush?”

Raven gives her a questioning look. “I’m sorry, do you _not_ want an awesome wedding dress?”

“OK, yeah, of course I do.” She pauses. “Though maybe not a _wedding dress_ wedding dress.”

Raven waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, I wasn’t thinking we’d go full ball gown or anything. Even if that would be appropriate with the whole ‘princess’ thing. But something a little nicer, at least.”

Octavia frowns at them from one of the armchairs. “So we’re not going to a bridal shop? I was looking forward to that.”

“No, we are,” Raven assures her, taking a seat on the couch. “We have an appointment at ten, hence the early start.”

“Oh, good, I wanted to try some stuff on too,” Octavia muses, and both Raven and Clarke snap their attention to her.

“Really?” Clarke asks. “Something you want to tell us…?”

Octavia shrugs, but there’s a bit of color on her cheeks. “Nothing decided, but we’ve… talked about it a little, just casually, since Bell called last month. So maybe soon-ish.”

Clarke’s not sure she really wants the whole trying-on-wedding-dresses experience, but she can take one for the team if Octavia will be doing it too. “Well, if I’m going to get a dress, I need to know a little more about the wedding place.” She sits down next to Raven and nudges her shoulder. “You have photos?”

“Of course.”

They’re still scrolling through the website – it really does look nice, not what Clarke would have expected from a Las Vegas wedding chapel at all – when the water turns off in the bathroom.

“I should probably warn him you’re here,” she says, getting up from the sofa and crossing to the bathroom.

“No shower sex when I’m in the next room!” Octavia calls after her just as she opens the door.

Bellamy’s standing in front of the vanity, towel around his hips, and looks up at his sister’s voice.

“I was going to warn you we had visitors,” Clarke starts, “but you heard that, so…”

He lets out a chuckle. “I did, yeah. What are they doing here so early?”

She closes the door behind her for a moment and leans against it. “Apparently we have an appointment to try on wedding dresses at ten. Which your sister wants to do, too, by the way.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Did Lincoln…”

She shakes her head. “But they’ve been talking, apparently, so maybe soon.”

A wistful smile appears on his face. “I hope so. I have a feeling he can make her happy.”

“I’ll make sure he does,” she promises, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “But right now, I need to take a shower if we’re going to make the appointment I didn’t know we had.”

They do make it, just barely, grabbing some breakfast on the way.

It’s not as overwhelming as Clarke feared – apparently, Raven gave them strict instructions on what type of dresses to show her, and there’s not a poufy ball gown or five foot train in sight.

Well, apart from the dresses Octavia digs out of the racks for herself to try on, that is.

In the end, both Raven and Octavia approve a simple but pretty dress, knee length in a flowy material that feels appropriate considering the temperature, and they’re back at the hotel in time to meet the boys for lunch.

In the afternoon, they check out the Strip in daylight, and then wrap the day up on Freemont Street, with a pit stop at the Marriage Bureau, which just happens to be a few blocks away. They try the zip line and check out the different performers, get some drinks and snacks, and after a few hours, Clarke feels one of her very uncommon headaches coming on, probably due to the overstimulation all around. It’s been a few years since she was here last, but it’s still just as overwhelming as she remembers, and she’s glad when Raven suggests heading back towards their hotels for a late dinner.

“So that’s the Vegas experience, huh?” Bellamy notes in the cab on the way back.

“I’m pretty sure you’re getting the real Vegas experience tomorrow,” Octavia pipes up from his other side. “You know, statistically speaking, I’m sure more people come here to get married than to go zip lining.”

Clarke shrugs. “She’s probably right.”

Octavia tried to get them to split up for the night, claiming that it’s bad luck to see each other before the actual ceremony on the wedding day, but Bellamy put his foot down on that one, and Clarke’s glad he did when they wake up together, the light peeking in around the edges of the curtains already too bright but the room nice and dark and cool.

“Morning,” Bellamy mumbles with a half-smile, and she rolls on top of him for a proper good morning kiss.

Things are just about to get interesting when there’s a banging on the door and she sighs and buries her face against his throat.

“Go away!” he yells.

“You can have sex later!” Octavia yells back from the other side of the door.

Clarke pushes herself up on one elbow and looks down at him. “Is there any point in trying to get rid of her?”

Bellamy sighs. “Doubtful.”

“Hmm…” she hums, leaning down again to press a kiss to his collar bone and then let her teeth scrape the skin, earning a hiss. “Maybe if we’re loud enough she’ll be embarrassed and leave?”

“Even if that might work on O, which I’m not sure it would, do you really think Raven would care?”

She groans and rolls off him, because of course Raven is out there too. “No, she’d probably get the front desk to open the door for her or something.”

“Exactly.” He pats her arm somewhat comfortingly before getting out of bed to let their annoying morning visitors in.

“Finally!” Raven exclaims when they enter the room and Clarke shoots her a deathly look. “What took so long?”

“Don’t tell us if you were having sex, I do not want to know,” Octavia adds. “Come on, chop chop.”

“What are we even doing this early?” Clarke grumbles, wrapping the sheet around herself securely before sitting up. Bellamy, the traitor, has taken the opportunity to disappear into the bathroom. “You said the ceremony isn’t until two.”

“And it’s eight thirty, we need to get breakfast and then we have an appointment at ten to get pampered,” Raven tells her.

“Define ‘pampered’.”

“Mani, pedi, hair, face, makeup,” Octavia clarifies. “That’s two and a half hours, then we need to eat something, and then head over to the venue to get you dressed, which brings us to one forty-seven, according to my calculations.”

Complaining about being interrupted in bed with her boyfriend – fiancée – is one thing, but complaining when her friends have gone to all this trouble is kind of shitty, so she just lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But you’re going to have to wait out in the hallway or the lobby or something, so I can get dressed.”

Octavia immediately turns towards the door, but Raven just raises an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the goods before, babe.”

“Out!”

-100-

Clarke has to admit that the whole pampering thing is kind of heavenly. They’re at a salon just a block from the actual wedding venue, apparently, so they won’t have to worry too much about the hundred degree heat outside after they’re done, and the woman currently working on her feet is seriously amazing.

“OK, this was a good idea,” she admits, the face mask straining a little against the movement.

Raven snorts to her left. “You don’t have to sound so annoyed about it.”

“I’m not, I just…”

“Were about to get laid, we get it,” Raven cuts her off. “But come on, you’re getting a wedding night later, and I promise we won’t even try to keep you out that late. And we’ll leave you alone tomorrow morning too.”

“Oh, you’re getting married?” the woman working on Octavia’s feet exclaims, and that conversation gets them through the rest of the appointment.

It’s not until they’re in a small room at the wedding venue, Octavia unzipping the garment bag with Clarke’s dress, that she starts getting nervous.

“You OK?” Raven immediately asks.

She puts on a faint smile. “Yeah, just… wedding jitters.”

“Not having cold feet, right?” Octavia asks, eyes narrowed.

“Of course not.”

“Why don’t you go check on your brother?” Raven suggests. “I’ve got this.”

Octavia looks between them once more. “You better.”

“I’m fine, really,” Clarke says when the door has closed behind her. “Just butterflies, but that’s normal, right?”

Raven nods but still looks hesitant. “You know you can tell me if you changed your mind, right? Hell, you could tell _Bellamy_ if you changed your mind, I don’t think he’d even be upset.”

“I know, and I haven’t. I want to do this, I just…”

“What?”

Clarke takes a deep breath, tries to get her thoughts under control. “I guess it just… it feels sort of like the beginning of the end, you know?”

Raven squeezes her hand. “I know. But not getting married isn’t going to change anything on that end, so…”

“I might as well get married?”

“As long as it’s really what you want.”

Clarke nods, trying to swallow down the lump that’s formed in her throat. “It is. The only problem is that I don’t just want to marry him, I want to _be_ married to him. For longer than… a couple of weeks.” Raven doesn’t seem to have an answer to that, just pulls her into a tight hug. Clarke’s the one to pull away, blinking back tears. “OK, bad time to hash that out. Come on, help me get the dress on and distract me so I don’t ruin my makeup.”

Octavia returns a few minutes later, looking relieved when Clarke’s already wearing the dress, and then they’re leaving the room and she’s _about to get married_.

Raven and Octavia leave her by a set of double doors with instructions to wait for the music, and then sneak in to join the others.

It’s only a couple of minutes before the music actually starts, but it feels much longer. When Clarke hears the first notes, she reaches for the door knob and, despite her hand shaking a little, manages to get it open.

She knows the room is beautiful, she saw Raven’s pictures and heard her description of the flowers and decorations that would be there, but the only thing she sees in that moment is Bellamy.

He’s at the other end of the room, of course, Miller next to him and a middle-aged woman behind him, and when their eyes meet, his whole face breaks into a smile so bright it could outshine the Strip a few blocks away.

She’s not quite sure how she gets across the room, but then she’s next to him and he reaches for her hand. “Hey, Princess.”

“Hi. Ready to do this?”

“Absolutely.”

She can’t really focus on the officiator’s words, but she does manage to say ‘I do’ at the right time, so it doesn’t really matter. The whole ceremony is only about fifteen minutes and then she finally gets to kiss her _husband_.

The thought that that’s going to take some getting used to, followed immediately by the thought that she won’t really have time to get used to it, flashes through her mind, but she determinedly pushes them away.

She’s not going to think about that anymore today.

Their friends barely take up a fifth of the chairs in the room, but they cheer loudly enough to give the impression of it being a full house when they walk back down the aisle, throwing flower petals instead of the traditional rice.

It’s almost a shock to be back outside, the sun harsh and the heat like a wall when they leave the small wedding venue. Clarke blinks against the bright light and frowns at a white limo that’s parked in front of them that definitely wasn’t there before.

“I guess we’re going all out,” Bellamy notes next to her.

“You didn’t know about this?” she asks, looking up at him.

He looks down at her, an easy smile on his face, and shrugs. “Raven said she had the whole afternoon and evening planned, I didn’t ask for specifics.”

She half-turns to face him fully, taking a small step closer. His arms go around her waist immediately. “And here I was hoping they’d let us get right to the wedding night…”

“Nope!” comes Raven’s decisive voice from next to them, and Clarke turns to find their friends have joined them. “I promise we’ll let you get to that soon enough, but not before we seriously celebrate.”

Octavia and Miller cheer at that and Lincoln holds open the door to the limo. Bellamy raises his eyebrows in a silent question and she nods once. “I guess we’re partying.”

They pile into the limo and it takes off as soon as the door closes, the driver apparently already on top of their destination. Which turns out to be Treasure Island at the top of the Strip.

“We’re doing a casino crawl, aren’t we?” Clarke asks when the limo has dropped them off and disappeared.

Raven opens her mouth to respond, but Octavia beats her to it. “Most of us haven’t been here before, so we’re hijacking your wedding party. Sorry.”

“We took a vote, babe,” Raven adds with a shrug, pulling something out of her purse.

“ _We_ didn’t get a vote,” Bellamy points out, but he sounds more amused than annoyed.

“I’m sorry, did you or did you not ask me to plan today?” Raven asks, almost distractedly, as she pulls a hot pink silk ribbon of the type beauty contestants wear over Clarke’s head and adjusts it diagonally over her chest. Clarke looks down and, after forcing her brain to read upside down and backwards, figures out it says ‘just married’.

He inclines his head in confirmation as Octavia huffs. “Come on, Bell, we just want to have some fun. We didn’t get to do any bachelor or bachelorette stuff, this can double as that.”

“I didn’t say we’re not doing it,” he tells her, hands raised in a defensive pose.

“Good.” Octavia grabs Lincoln’s hand. “We’ll be at the roulette table if anyone wants to join us. Meet back here at four.”

They disappear into the casino, Miller and Jackson following.

“We have an itinerary?” Bellamy asks, a smile playing on his lips.

“I figured it was best, otherwise things would probably get out of hand fast, with eight of us,” Raven replies, pulling out another ribbon, this one blue. Bellamy figures out what she wants before she has to ask, bending down a little for her. “One hour at each casino – Treasure Island, Venetian, Mirage, Flamingo, and Bellagio, and then we’ll wrap up with dinner at your hotel at eight, after which I promise we will let you call it a night if you want.”

“The Flamingo?” Clarke asks, straightening Bellamy’s ribbon a little. Like hers, it also says ‘just married’. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

He looks between them with a frown. “What’s wrong with the Flamingo?”

Zeke snorts a laugh. “Raven was kicked out from it in the fifties. She’s probably technically still banned.”

“You got kicked out of a casino?” Bellamy repeats, sounding awed. “What did you do?”

She waves it off. “Just some card counting, nothing big. Don’t worry – I’ve gotten way better at not getting caught.”

Clarke just shakes her head. “I swear, if you get us kicked out again…”

Raven hooks an arm around her shoulders and tugs all of them along towards the entrance. “Relax. Even if they have, like, a rogue gallery or something, who would believe I’m the same person? We’re good. Now come on, like Octavia put it – we just want to have some fun!”

And they really do – Clarke does try to take things a little slow, not drink too much, and she can tell that Bellamy does too, but they try blackjack and roulette and play the slot machines, and cheer Octavia on when she hits a winning streak at the craps table, and accept hugs and congratulations from complete strangers.

Raven does not get kicked out of the Flamingo again, but Octavia nearly gets in a fight with an old woman who claims she stole her slot machine and won a hundred bucks. Lincoln steps in right on time, though, defusing the situation and charming the woman so completely she walks away looking a little dazed.

All in all, they make it to the restaurant that Raven’s booked at Caesar’s Palace in one piece, nobody too broke, Clarke doesn’t think, and everyone either pleasantly buzzed or – in Octavia and Jackson’s case – borderline drunk.

Everyone seems to be having a good time, though, which is what’s most important.

Raven’s apparently already put in an order for some sort of tasting menu, so dinner’s basically a free-for-all with everyone grabbing what looks good, passing dishes around. Their waiter does ask them to keep it down a little once, but he’s rolling his eyes as he does, which makes Clarke think it’s probably just for show for whoever complained about them being too loud. They do manage to lower the volume – which basically means Octavia – a little, and nobody else complains.

It’s almost eleven by the time they finally finish dessert, and Raven stands. “Time to hit the casino, who’s in?”

Zeke, Miller and Octavia cheer, and Bellamy shoots Clarke a questioning look. “What do you say, play for a while?”

She’s pretty sure he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want to, so she smiles. “Sure.”

That brings another round of cheers from Octavia and Miller, and Raven ushers everyone out of the restaurant before they’re actually asked to leave.

They find an almost empty roulette table and play there together for a while, Zeke winning a few hundred bucks only to lose them five minutes later when his luck seems to jump to Bellamy.

“OK, I’m up a grand,” he announces a little later. “How about quitting while we’re ahead, Princess?”

Clarke’s just been watching the others play for the last twenty minutes or so, not quite waiting for him to want to leave, but sort of. “Sounds good.”

Raven pulls her into a hug before they leave. “You did have fun, right?”

Clarke squeezes her friend back. “Best day in a long time, Rae, promise. But now I want to go get laid for the first time as a married woman, thanks.”

Raven laughs as she pulls away. “Fair enough. We don’t have any plans tomorrow, but brunch at Mimosas whenever you two decide to get out of bed?”

“Mmm, yes please.”

“OK, just call whenever. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

They say their goodbyes to everyone else, and don’t even care that Octavia’s ‘have fuuuuun’ follows them as they leave.

They’re not alone in the elevator, but Bellamy still wraps his arms around her from behind. “Good day?” he asks quietly, and Clarke leans back against him.

“Amazing.”

A bellboy gets out of the elevator on their floor, so they keep their hands to themselves as they hurry down the corridor, but as soon as the door closes behind them, Bellamy pushes her up against the wall next to it, mouth hot and insistent on hers.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for _hours_ ,” he murmurs into her skin, trailing kisses down her throat.

“Uh-huh, that makes two of us.”

He pauses at the neckline of her dress, pulling away to look her up and down. “Love the dress, by the way, I don’t think I said that.”

She takes the opportunity to reach out to get the first few buttons in his shirt undone. “You didn’t, but I kind of figured. You’re not half bad yourself, but I think this shirt would look much better on the floor.”

Clarke finishes the last of the buttons and tugs the shirt out of his pants, pushing it off his shoulders, and he shrugs it off before stepping in again. “Same goes for your dress,” he days before reclaiming her lips. A moment later, she feels his hand run up her back, and then he pulls the zipper down.

She manages to step out of the dress and kick it aside without breaking the kiss, and makes quick work of the button and zipper on Bellamy’s pants before he pushes her back against the wall again, his fingers digging into her hips slightly. When she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer, she can feel that he must have gotten rid of his pants as well, the cotton of his boxers soft against her skin.

She always loses track of time completely during their make-out sessions, and this time is no exception – when his lips abandon hers to trail down her neck to her chest and then her stomach, she has no idea if it’s been five minutes or an hour.

He sinks to his knees, eyes dark when he looks up at her. “Brings back memories, huh?”

It takes Clarke’s brain a second to refocus, but then the moment he must be referring to fills her mind – the first time he cooked her dinner, being pressed up against the wall by his bedroom door, his mouth and fingers bringing her to orgasm for the very first time.

“Mmm,” she agrees. “Planning a trip down memory lane?”

Bellamy chuckles against her stomach, his hot breath sending shivers through her, and hooks two fingers in her panties to pull them down. “Not necessarily, but we’ll see…”

She remembers how he teased her that night, pushed her to the edge again and again, and that was before he really got to know her and her body. Now, he knows exactly how to drive her crazy.

Which seems to be his plan tonight, if the way he works her up only to let her back down once, twice, three times is any indication.

The fourth time he pulls away from her clit to kiss the inside of her thigh, Clarke can’t help but let out a whine. “Bellamy… please, it’s not fair to tease your wife on your wedding night…”

He huffs a laugh, but then he pushes two fingers inside her and returns his attention to her clit, and a moment later, she finally, _finally_ tumbles over the edge.

When she comes back down, Bellamy’s straightened up and she pulls him in for a kiss, feeling him hard against her curls, which means he must have gotten his boxers off while she was… distracted.

“Better?” he murmurs against her lips and she slides a hand between them to wrap around him and line him up.

“Much better.”

He pulls away slightly, just enough to be able to look her in the eye as he pushes into her, slowly, pausing when he’s all the way in.

They both still for a second, breathing hard, the moment frozen around them. Then Clarke pulls him back in, the kiss less technique and more desperate need, and he starts moving.

It’s not the most comfortable of positions, and when something scrapes her back some time later, she realizes that she’s still wearing her bra. She breaks the kiss with a huff, putting a hand against Bellamy’s chest to push him back enough to let her get a hand between her back and the wall.

He frowns down at her adorably so she holds up the offending garment when she’s gotten it off. The corner of his lips turn up in a smirk and then he leans down to pull a nipple into his mouth as his hips snap against hers again.

She doesn’t even try to hold back the moan, sliding her fingers into his hair and letting her head fall back against the wall. He hooks a hand under her knee, lifting her leg up and changing the angle of his thrusts enough that he hits that sweet spot, and when his other hand finds her clit a moment later, she comes with a cry.

He doesn’t let up as her orgasm washes through her, instead picking up his pace, and the waves of pleasure still haven’t faded completely when he stills and then pulses deep inside her, burying a groan against her throat.

Clarke recovers before he does, pressing kisses against his shoulder as he catches his breath.

“Good start to the wedding night?” he finally asks, and she lets out a breathless laugh.

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content, duh – it’s their wedding night!


	54. All the Stars We Steal from the Night Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I didn't actually post this on Saturday, which I thought I did, it just got saved as a draft... so two chapters going up tonight, I guess!
> 
> Vegas, part two! More of Sin City, some Fourth of July and a lot of friend time! I was actually in Vegas about two and a half years ago, it’s definitely a cool place, really special – my general perception of the place is expressed by Miller at one point
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Never Enough” by Kelly Clarkson from “The Greatest Showman”

Raven actually keeps her promise, and, apparently, somehow manages to keep Octavia away too – they’re not woken up by someone banging on the door the next morning.

Instead, they get to wake up on their own, have some morning sex, doze for a little while, and then have some late-morning sex followed by some bathroom sex.

When they get out of the shower, though, Bellamy’s stomach is rumbling angrily.

“I guess we have to eat at some point,” he says. “Room service?”

She checks the time – already a few minutes past noon. “Or we could join the others for brunch at the best place this side of… I was going to say the Hudson, but I’m not entirely sure how the geography works out with the river and Cheryl’s… let’s just say they do amazing brunches. And mimosas.”

He lets out a long, theatrical sigh. “And here I was hoping to spend the whole day in bed…”

“Do you really think your sister will let us get away with that?” Clarke asks with a raised eyebrow, and he winces.

“OK, yeah, probably not. So… brunch?”

She texts Raven to find out where the others are, and it turns out that she and Zeke just got up themselves – apparently, it was a late night for everyone. They agree that she will get everyone else up and ready, and that Clarke and Bellamy will head over to them in a little while, since Mimosas is all the way over in Spring Valley and the six of them won’t fit in Raven’s rental car.

They take the opportunity to Skype Rosamie and Danilo in the Philippines – apparently, they also knew about Bellamy’s plans, and the whole family has gathered to congratulate them, which means the call takes much longer than planned.

Still, when they get to the hotel where the others are staying, only Raven, Zeke and Lincoln are out front.

“They’re coming,” Raven says when Clarke rolls down her window. She’s wearing big sunglasses and her voice is a little raspy.

“Are you OK?” Clarke asks amusedly. She can’t remember the last time her friend actually got hungover, she must have really started hitting the alcohol after they left.

“Some of us were up celebrating your wedding until… way too late,” Raven replies, lifting the huge sunglasses she’s wearing to glare at Clarke, which is only slightly less scary than usual with her red eyes. “Octavia is scarily good at getting free shots.”

Octavia joins them at that moment, looking almost as bad as Raven and wincing when Bellamy laughs. “Not so loud!” she complains. “And it’s not like I forced you to drink with me.”

“Someone had to. I’m pretty sure your brother would kill me if I let you die from alcohol poisoning on his wedding day.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he agrees amusedly. “How about we get over to this place that’s supposed to have the best brunch so it can soak up whatever alcohol’s still left in your stomachs?”

“Brunch?” Octavia asks, perking up a little. “Do they have French toast?”

“Of course,” Raven assures her, looping her arm through Octavia’s, so apparently the two of them really bonded last night. That’s a terrifying thought. “Come on, Zeke’s driving our car, Miller and Jackson can ride with you guys.”

They get everyone in the cars and on the road, and soon enough, they’re sitting around two tables that the waitress was nice enough to pull together for them, a virtual feast of breakfast food in front of them.

“OK, so what’s happening today?” Octavia asks after she’s finished a large cup of coffee and two plates of French toast, looking up at Clarke expectantly.

“Don’t look at me,” she replies. “I didn’t even know you guys were coming, I don’t have anything planned for you. We were going to check out the Venetian a bit more and then we have tickets to High roller tonight, you can probably get in on that if you want.”

“I want to do some shopping while we’re here,” Raven, who has apparently also woken up properly, pipes in. “Which you can do at the Venetian, I guess, but I was thinking the outlet mall.”

“Ooh, yes please,” Octavia says immediately. “Unless you mind company?”

“Nah, the more the merrier,” Raven says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Miller? Jackson? Shopping or sightseeing?”

They look at each other. “I’m not really in a shopping mood,” Miller finally says, and Bellamy snorts.

“Are you ever?”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, I think we’ll go with you back to the Strip,” Jackson says. “I definitely want to check out the Venetian.”

“Yeah, some of us didn’t get to go to the _actual_ Venice, so we’ll have to make do with the fake one,” Miller adds with a smirk in Bellamy’s direction, jumping a little a moment later when Bellamy presumably kicks him under the table.

So they split up for the afternoon, Bellamy driving them back to the hotel to park the car before they head off up the Strip again.

It’s still way too hot outside, and the air conditioning when they finally make it to the Venetian is a welcome change. They explore the labyrinthine streets, made to look like the city the hotel was named after, for a while before taking a coffee-slash-gelato break at St. Mark’s Square.

“So, how does it compare to the real deal?” Miller asks, looking around them. He and Jackson want to do the gondola tour, but the first available time slot is in forty-five minutes, so they have some time to kill.

Bellamy mirrors his movement, frowning at the square and buildings around them. “I don’t know, I mean, it’s well made, but it’s kind of obvious it’s still fake, you know?”

Jackson nods. “Yeah, I get what you mean. And I’ve never been to the actual city, so I don’t have anything to compare it to, either. But it’s the whole… Vegas surrealism, or what you want to call it.”

“That’s what you were saying about… Dubai, right?” Bellamy asks, turning to Clarke.

She has to think for a moment before she remembers that particular conversation. “Oh, yeah, I did say that. But yeah, I’ve always thought that there’s this sort of film of… I don’t know, like a mirage in the desert, Vegas and Dubai, they sort of have that feel to them, you know? Like they’re not quite real, even though they are. Not in a bad way or anything, I love both cities, but they’re best in very measured quantities, in my experience.”

Miller chuckles at that. “Yeah, I get what you mean. We’ve only been here for three days and I already feel like my brain’s constantly overloaded. There are just so many impressions, everywhere, all the time. You never get a break. Lincoln and I were actually talking about maybe doing a road trip to Hoover Dam tomorrow, get out of the city a little.”

“You should,” Bellamy says, nodding. “We’re making a pit stop there on Sunday, so we’ll pass, but I know Octavia will want to see it too. Maybe if you leave early enough, she won’t come banging on our door at the crack of dawn.”

Miller hooks an arm around his neck in a light choke hold. “You sure you’ll be OK without us all day? Alone in Sin City?”

Bellamy ducks out from under his arm and cuffs him lightly in the back of the head. “We’ve survived on our own for months now, I think we’ll manage.” He gives Clarke a questioning look. “Do we have plans tomorrow?”

She goes through her mental itinerary. “Nothing until the Cirque de Soleil show in the evening. Honestly, I was kind of hoping to just lounge around the pool all day.”

“Good plan.”

Miller and Jackson go on their gondola ride, and then all four of them head out, meeting the others back at their hotel for dinner, before it’s time for a spin on the High Roller.

Raven and Zeke, who have of course already seen the Hoover Dam, opt to stay in Vegas the next day too, joining Bellamy and Clarke at their hotel since it, according to Raven, has a way better pool area. Again, the temperature’s over a hundred, and they spend more time in the water than they do out of it, opting to go up to their room and order room service for lunch instead of having to actually get dressed.

The show isn’t until nine thirty, so all eight of them have dinner together again before Clarke and Bellamy need to leave, Octavia grumbling about how she would love to go too.

“It’s even called ‘O’, Bell, it’s like it was made for me,” she exclaims.

Bellamy sighs. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t plan ahead enough to know this was going to happen when we booked the tickets back in _January_ , O. You know, before I even knew I was going to see you again.”

That seems to appease her and she offers him a sheepish smile. “I know.”

“There are tickets available for the show on Friday,” Raven pipes up from across the table, but Octavia waves her off.

“Nah, it was more about doing a Vegas show together, not that particular show.”

“Even though it’s your namesake?” Bellamy teases, and she elbows him in the side.

“Shut up.”

Raven gets up from her seat to round the table and lean over Octavia’s shoulder. “There are still tickets for other stuff on Friday too, we can do something else, all of us.”

So they spend half an hour scrolling through what’s on offer – they rule out all strip shows and Octavia vetoes any and all mind reading, since it creeps her out, but in the end, everyone agrees on ‘VEGAS! THE SHOW’, which seems appropriate, and Raven books eight tickets.

“OK, that’s done,” Octavia says with a happy smile. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Clarke repeats with a frown.

Octavia’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, tomorrow. You know – Fourth of July?”

OK, if she’s being honest, Clarke hasn’t thought that much about the Fourth of July. She remembers noting, back when she was booking the trip, that they’d be in Vegas and thinking that it would be cool, because she’s heard the firework shows are amazing, but that’s about it.

Luckily, Raven is a little better at advance planning, so she has – again – an itinerary for the day.

“Not an itinerary,” she insists. “Just dinner reservations at Giada, which has a great view of the firework show at Caesar’s, and some suggestions for stuff to do during the day.”

That conversation gets them through until Clarke and Bellamy have to leave to catch their show, and they’re still discussing best Fourth of July memories when they go.

The show is amazing, of course, and it’s after midnight by the time they make it back to the hotel.

To Clarke’s surprise, nobody wakes them up the next morning either, though Raven does call at eleven thirty to tell them that they’re meeting up at the Paris in an hour to check out their Beer Park.

_“Apparently, they’re doing some American themed thing today,”_ she explains. _“It seems pretty cool, so I figured we could check it out.”_

She’s waiting out front when they get to the hotel and lead them up to the rooftop, where the rest of their group is already sharing a huge bowl of… something, with Bomb Pop popsicles sticking out of it.

“It’s a Freedom Bowl!” Octavia exclaims. “It’s watermelony and delicious, try it!”

And it’s really a lot of fun. They pause the alcoholic intake after they’ve finished the Freedom Bowl and have all-American hot dogs for lunch, but after that, Zeke – their own beer expert – puts together a beer tasting and they work their way through most of the hundred types of beer on the menu.

They hang out on the rooftop for the rest of the afternoon, enjoying the general celebratory atmosphere, before returning to their hotels to get ready for dinner in the evening. The Strip is even more bustling than the last few days, natives and tourists alike making the most of the holiday, and they’re all in a wonderful mood when they finally get to the restaurant.

Raven somehow managed to get them a table by the windows at Giada, so they have front row seats to the firework show across the street, and all in all, it’s definitely the best Fourth of July Clarke has had in a long time, maybe ever.

She says as much when she and Bellamy are heading back to the hotel later, after they’ve parted ways with the rest of the group on Flamingo.

“Yeah?” he replies, arm tightening around her and lips brushing her hair briefly. “Me too.”

They’re more or less on their own again on Friday, since they have tickets to the Neon Boneyard and the Mob Museum – which Octavia makes fun of Bellamy for being excited about over breakfast, but is actually really cool. Again, they meet up with the others for dinner and then the Vegas show, which is a little over-the-top – though, really, that’s Las Vegas in a nutshell – but overall fun.

“So, did that live up to your expectations?” Bellamy asks Octavia when they’re leaving Planet Hollywood, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

She rolls her eyes but hugs him back. “It was cool, yeah.”

“Liking Las Vegas so far?”

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t want to live here, but it’s nice for a holiday.”

Clarke hums her agreement from Bellamy’s other side. “Yeah, I think that’s the general consensus.”

Saturday is their last full day in Las Vegas – Raven, Zeke, Miller, and Jackson are heading back to New York at ten on Sunday morning, the only direct flight that gets in at a reasonable hour, since both Miller and Jackson have work on Monday, and Lincoln and Octavia are flying out at two in the afternoon, so Clarke and Bellamy are dropping them off at the airport on their way out of town.

As soon as she wakes up, Clarke can tell that Bellamy has already started counting down to when he’s going to say goodbye to his sister for the last time – definitely, this time. It’s only a few minutes after seven, but he’s already awake, leaning against the headboard, scrolling on his phone. To anyone else, he might look relaxed, but she can see the tension in the curve of his neck, the way his eyes never focus on anything on the screen for longer than a few seconds at a time.

“You OK?” she asks, voice still rough with sleep.

He looks away from the phone and gives her a half-smile. “Yeah.” He sighs. “Just… we already did the goodbye thing once, I thought it was the last time then, I’m not really looking forward to doing it again.”

She pushes herself up into a sitting position. “I know. But you don’t regret asking them to come, right?”

“Of course not, I would have loved it if they could stay longer…” He sighs again, rubs a hand over his face. “I did ask if they could, actually, maybe another week, fly back from New Orleans or something. I know it would have messed up hotels and stuff…”

“We would have managed,” Clarke interrupts him gently. “But?”

“Apparently summer’s one of Lincoln’s busiest seasons, photographing weddings and stuff, O said they just couldn’t be away from Dublin for that long. Which I get, I just… it’s not like it would make much difference, no matter how much time I got with her now, it still wouldn’t be enough, but it would’ve…”

“It would have been a little more time,” she finishes the sentence when he trails off.

Bellamy’s mouth turns up in a half smile. “Yeah. I’m still looking forward to the rest of our road trip, it just… it would have been nice to share part of it with her, you know?”

She reaches out to squeeze his hand. “I know…”

“But it’s not like I can tell her this is our last chance to spend time together, so…”

Clarke swallows, her throat suddenly closing up, and her eyes dart to his forehead. 21. Three weeks left.

“I’m sorry,” she offers after a moment and he shakes his head.

“How about we both stop apologizing for things we have no control over?” he suggests, and she lets out a slightly watery laugh.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Since they didn’t have any plans for the day, Octavia managed to convince everyone to go hiking with her and Lincoln. Nobody was particularly interested in a hard desert hike in hundred degree heat, though, so they compromised and decided on a somewhat-nearby wildlife rescue which is supposed to have beautiful scenery and at least a little greenery that offers shade.

So when they’ve finished breakfast, they head over to meet the others at their hotel and pile into the cars for the hour and a half drive.

“We should have gotten an earlier start,” Octavia grumbles half-heartedly when they’re on the 95, the city behind them and the desert stretching out ahead.

“We already got up at seven, O,” Bellamy points out from the driver’s seat. “We’ll be there before ten, don’t worry.”

“It’s still going to be hot as hell,” she insists.

And it is, of course, but the refuge is well thought out, with a couple of wooden boardwalks stretching across the wetlands, strategically placed benches along them, some in wonderful shade, and they did prepare, bringing a lot of water and some snacks, so it’s not as bad as it could have been.

“Thank God we’re not planning on doing any hiking at the Grand Canyon,” Bellamy still notes after a couple of hours.

He and Clarke have taken a break at one of the shady benches at the Kings Pool, sharing one of their bottles of water and a protein bar to try to muster enough energy to make it back to the car. They’ve already checked out the Devils Hole and the Crystal Boardwalk, and are now on the last of their short hikes, along the Point of Rocks Boardwalk.

“Yeah, I didn’t even suggest that since I know it’ll be too hot,” she says. “Not as bad as Vegas, but still, high eighties, low nineties, and without much shade… no fun.”

They’re alone for the moment – Octavia, Lincoln, Miller and Jackson have already started heading back towards the parking area, and Raven and Zeke stopped to check something out a little while ago and haven’t reached the pond yet.

“How long will we have there, by the way?” Bellamy asks.

“Depends a little, I guess,” Clarke replies, pulling her phone out of her pocket and opening up Google Maps. “We’re dropping Octavia and Lincoln off at the airport at… eleven thirty, noon?”

He nods. “Yeah, something like that, they need to get through security for international flights.”

“OK, so then it’s a four hour drive to the national park, give or take. We’re stopping at Hoover Dam, but unless you’re really interested in how a dam works…”

“Not really.”

“…that shouldn’t take more than an hour, tops, if we get lunch there,” she concludes. “And one of your roadside attractions thing was on that stretch, right?”

He thinks for a moment. “Oh, yeah, the largest map of Route 66.”

“What was the name of the hotel?”

Bellamy pulls out his phone too to check. “El Trovatore Motel.”

She plugs that into the maps too. “OK, that adds ten minutes to the drive, that’s nothing. Plus another ten or fifteen for a stop.” She switches to a web browser. “So say we get to Grand Canyon at six, we’ll still have about two hours of daylight to check out the canyon, sunset’s at seven forty-eight. And then whatever time we want to spend in the morning, but it is an eight hour drive to Roswell.”

“When’s sunrise?”

Clarke does another google search and frowns. “Five eighteen.”

He winces. “That’s early.”

“We can still get up to watch it, if you want,” she says. “We’re staying in the actual park, so it’s only a few minutes’ drive to the rim from the hotel. We can get up, check out the sunset, and then go back to the hotel and get a couple more hours of sleep before heading out, if we want.”

He nods slowly, as if trying to decide whether that’s a good idea. “Let’s check out the sunset first, maybe that’ll be so amazing we won’t even want to watch the sunrise too.”

“We can play it by ear, yeah.”

Voices announce Raven and Zeke’s arrival and they both look up.

“… I told you it wasn’t a sheep,” Raven says, sounding half annoyed and half amused.

“It could have been!” Zeke counters, just as they reach the bench where Clarke and Bellamy are sitting.

“What happened?” Clarke asks, biting back a smile at Raven’s frustrated expression.

“Someone led me on a wild sheep chase for fifteen minutes,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I said I was sorry! And we got to see that cool rock formation.”

The corners of Raven’s mouth are twitching, but she doesn’t respond. “You guys ready to head back? We met the others and gave Lincoln the key to our car, so they could just head out when they got back to the parking lot, so we’ll ride with you instead.”

Bellamy gets up, putting his phone away. “Yeah, let’s go, I miss the AC in the car and we only have one more bottle of water left.”

Clarke stands too, but before she can put her own phone away, Raven’s eyebrows furrow in a way she knows means her friend is thinking hard about something, and then she holds out her hand.

“Give me your phone.”

Clarke looks at the outstretched hand for a moment before unlocking her phone and handing it over, not even needing to ask what Raven wants it for.

“Thanks.”

She just shrugs, eyes on the screen. “I figured you probably wouldn’t really want to do this part yourself.” She clicks a few times and then hands the phone back, eyes darting to Bellamy briefly. “Do you want to know when and how?”

“No,” Clarke replies immediately, then winces and looks over at him too, watching as realization dawns on his face when he figures out what Raven just did. “Sorry, if you want to know, that’s your decision, but I don’t… I…”

His hand squeezing hers makes her stop. “No, I don’t want to know either,” he says, but then hesitates. “Just… is it something external or something medical?”

Raven frowns at the question. “Why?”

“It’s just something we talked about a little with that guy in Sydney,” he says with a shrug. “That maybe it’s possible to postpone it long enough for the day to end, which would only work if it’s something external – a car accident, getting shot, I don’t know… falling down stairs. Something you can avoid.”

“Not that we’re planning on doing any of that anyway,” Clarke can’t help but pipe in.

“OK, I get it,” Raven says, and the expression on her face gives away what’s coming, at least for Clarke. “Sorry, it’s medical, so…”

Bellamy takes a deep breath. “Right. It was a long shot anyway.”

Raven watches him for a long moment before she continues. “Do you want some good news?”

“Do you _have_ good news?” he retorts, and she snorts.

“OK, I guess ‘good’ is relative, considering the circumstances, but… I found your grandparents.”

That makes his eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Please.” Raven rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t even hard, required, like, no serious hacking at all.”

“She was actually disappointed,” Zeke says with an amused look.

“Is it too much to ask to get a challenge now and then?” Raven asks, rhetorically. “Anyway, I don’t remember their actual address, I have all the info on my phone, I’ll send it over later, but they’re in Bellport.”

Bellamy opens his mouth but closes it again, apparently not able to think of what to say to that, so Clarke takes over. “Bellport as in Long Island?”

Raven nods. “Yup. As far as I can tell from real estate listings, they moved there six years ago, after Richard sold his company in Chicago. They don’t make a lot of waves, no social media presence, which isn’t really odd, considering they’re seventy-seven and seventy-five, respectively. They’re both members of the local golf club, Richard seems to play a lot, I found a couple of newspaper clippings about tournaments, and Linda is involved in several charities.”

Bellamy still looks a little dumbstruck, but he shakes his head when Raven finishes speaking, as if clearing it. “Thanks, really… I still wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to look them up, especially not if they were still in Chicago, but if they’re just an hour and a half away…”

“We’ll do another road trip,” Clarke fills in. “We should be pretty good at it by then.”

The smile on his face is a little faint, but it’s there, so she counts it as a win.

“I’ll send you all the info when we’re back in the car,” Raven promises. “Now let’s get out of this damn oven.”

Bellamy still looks a little dazed when they get back to the car, so Clarke gently takes the car keys from his hand when he goes to get in the driver’s seat, handing them over to Zeke and instead ushering him into the backseat with her.

“You haven’t gotten heatstroke or something, right?” she only half-jokes when they’re back on the road.

He laughs at that, at least. “No, I’m fine. It’s just… Manila all over again, I guess. I wasn’t really expecting Raven to find anything…”

“Your fault for underestimating me!” the woman in question interjects from the front seat.

“Thanks, I won’t do that again. I wasn’t expecting her to find anything, and if she did, I figured it would be… one or both of them dead, living in Florida or maybe even out of the country, something like that. And I know they could still take one look at me and slam the door in my face, but I can still try, you know? And I didn’t think I’d get the opportunity.”

Clarke’s already in the middle seat, wanting to stay close, and now she scoots the couple of inches separating them and leans her head on his shoulder. “I get it. And I obviously don’t know how they’ll react, but I really don’t think they’ll just turn you away.”

She feels his arm wrap around her shoulders and then he’s leaning his head on top of hers. “Well, you were right about my dad’s family, so maybe you’ll be right about this too.”

She really hopes so.

When they get back, they have a few hours before their dinner reservation – at Top of the World at Stratosphere because, per Raven, they have to finish their Vegas stay in style – and Clarke does everything she can to get Bellamy’s mind off his grandparents.

By the time they leave the room again, she thinks she pretty much succeeded – he’s definitely much more relaxed, even smiling and laughing with the others, no sign of strain around his eyes or tension in his shoulders.

An afternoon well spent.

Dinner is great too, of course. They get to watch the sun set over the city and then the Strip come to life far below, the neon lights fighting the dusk all the way into the night. And even though Clarke does catch a slightly melancholy look on Bellamy’s face now and then, Octavia’s excitement over the whole trip and something that’s happening at work when she gets back keeps the general mood light.

Since the New York gang are leaving for the airport around eight the next morning, they say goodbye to them after dinner, and it doesn’t feel like a big deal or anything – which it’s not, of course, they’ll see them again when they get back to New York. In fact, Raven extends tentative invitations to a game night at their place on the 26th, and Clarke sends her a grateful look at that. They’ve been talking about doing something with their friends that night, but she’s been dragging her feet a little on committing to any actual plans, since she doesn’t really want to be hosting everyone. This is the perfect solution.

Octavia wants to do a bit more gambling before leaving, so she and Lincoln come back to Caesar’s, and they hit the casino until Clarke feels Bellamy sagging next to her at a blackjack table. When she looks up at him, he’s blinking hard, trying to keep his eyes open.

“Did you actually get any sleep last night at all?” she asks. “I thought you just woke up early.”

He shrugs. “I did. At, like, four thirty or something, so I didn’t get that much sleep, no.”

“OK, then I’m calling it. Even if I drive tomorrow, I don’t want you to sleep and miss everything.” She leans around him and manages to get Octavia’s attention. “Your brother is asleep on his feet, so we’re heading to bed.”

Octavia suppresses a yawn of her own. “Yeah, I think we’re done too. When are you picking us up in the morning?”

Clarke considers the question for a moment. “It’s not far from the hotel, really, and traffic shouldn’t be too bad at that time. When was your flight again?”

“Five to two,” Lincoln supplies. “The airport recommends being there three hours early, but that feels a little excessive. We’ve already checked in online, all we need to do is drop off our bags and get through security.”

“OK, then it should be fine if you get there by noon at the latest,” she concludes. “So we can pick you up at eleven thirty or so?”

“Let’s just say eleven,” Octavia pipes in. “It’s not like we’re doing anything in the morning, just breakfast and packing, maybe spend any small change we have left on the slot machines or something, and I know you guys want to get on the road. We can pass the time at the airport if we have to.”

“Are you sure?” Bellamy asks and Octavia rolls her eyes.

“Yes. You need to get on with your epic road trip. Seriously, you’re going to love Hoover Dam, it was really cool.”

With a plan made, they say goodnight, Octavia and Lincoln leaving to go back to their own hotel and Bellamy and Clarke taking the elevator up to their room.

“So, tomorrow morning’s going to suck, huh?” Clarke notes when they’ve closed the door behind them.

Bellamy huffs. “Yeah, pretty much. But I know that I can’t be too… you know what I mean, so if you think I’m overdoing it, feel free to step in.”

She busies herself with kicking her shoes off for a moment. “You haven’t changed your mind about telling her?” she then asks.

He sighs. “I’ve thought about it, since I knew they would be meeting us here, but… no. I don’t want her to have to think about it before she has to, you know? And I know that’ll mean you have to…”

“Hey,” she cuts him off, reaching for his hand. “I’ve told you before, you don’t have to worry about me. If you don’t want to tell her before, then you don’t. I’ll handle whatever… I’ll take care of it.”

His eyes are intent on her for a long moment, as if he’s trying to find any hint that she doesn’t mean it. Which she does, so he can’t.

“OK. But, yeah, tomorrow morning is going to suck big time.”


	55. When You Look at Me and the Whole World Fades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of the day – sorry for the mixup on Saturday, hope two chapters today make up for it! Time to leave Vegas and really get started on The Great American Roadtrip :)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Always Remember Us this Way” by Lady Gaga from the movie “A Star is Born”. I was sort of obsessed with that song while writing… well, most of this story, to be honest. It’s still in my playlist and I still love it. The song was actually the starting point for this chapter, or at least a scene in it. I hadn’t actually seen the movie when I wrote the chapter though (I have now) so please don’t jump to any conclusions based on the plot of the movie – I promise there’s no deeper meaning or hidden predictions of what’s to come! 
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Saying goodbye to Octavia and Lincoln honestly isn’t as bad as Clarke thought it would be, but that’s probably because she was picturing the absolute worst case scenario – Bellamy breaking down completely at the airport, his sister freaking out, possibly security getting involved… in the end, it’s probably not much different from how it would be if they were just saying goodbye not knowing when they were going to see each other again.

There’s very little traffic, and even with Octavia having to run back into the hotel when she realizes she forgot her charger in the room, they get to the airport at twenty minutes past eleven. Clarke pulls into the short term parking and turns off the engine, despite both Octavia and Lincoln assuring her that they can take it from here, and she and Bellamy follow them into the terminal and help them find the line for security.

“OK, seriously, you can’t come further than this,” Octavia says, only partly sounding like she’s joking.

“I know,” Bellamy tells her, turning to Lincoln and holding out a hand. “It was good to see you again. Take care of her, OK?”

Clarke takes the opportunity to hug Octavia goodbye, just catching the roll of her eyes at her brother’s words.

“She usually takes pretty good care of herself,” Lincoln replies. “But I will do my best.”

“And _you_ take care of my brother,” Octavia counters when she and Clarke break apart, just enough of a glint of steel in her eyes to show she means it. “I know he can get in his head sometimes but just… don’t let him, OK?”

Clarke nods. “I make no promises, but I will do what I can.”

She turns to Lincoln, trying to give the siblings at least the impression of some privacy. Still, she sees Bellamy pull his sister into a tight hug out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” he says, voice low enough to not carry to any of the other people around but loud enough Clarke has no trouble hearing. “I wouldn’t have wanted to do this without you.”

Octavia is hugging him back just as tightly. “Of course, I couldn’t miss my only brother getting freaking _married_.”

He laughs at that, sound only a little watery, and presses a kiss to her hair. “Love you, O. Never forget that, OK?”

“God, you’re so _weird_ ,” she complains, squeezing him one last time before disengaging. “I guess I love you too, loser. But it’s not like we’ll never see each other again – you married rich, remember?” She winks at Clarke.

“I knew you only wanted me for my money,” she says, playing along.

“Obviously,” Bellamy replies with an eye roll.

“So I’m thinking you’ll come visit at least once a year,” Octavia continues, going into planning mode. “Maybe twice, summer and Christmas? And then we can come out to New York now and then too. You can get flights pretty cheap if you book early, plus we can save on hotels if we can just stay with you.”

“Of course,” Clarke assures her, knowing that it will never happen. Or maybe Octavia will actually want to stay in touch with her after… everything. Which would be a whole other problem, down the line. She pushes the thought away for now. “You’re always welcome.”

There’s not much of a line at security, and they stay to watch Octavia and Lincoln go through, not leaving until they disappear from view.

“That could have gone worse,” Clarke notes when they’re back in the car.

Bellamy lets out a long sigh that feels like all the air leaving his body. “Yeah. I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect myself, but that was… OK.”

She starts up the engine and gets them on the road before reaching over to take his hand. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes, hold a little too tight, but she doesn’t mention it. She can be whatever support he needs right now.

“They’ll be in the air when we get to the hotel tonight, but maybe we can Skype in the morning, before we leave for Roswell?” Clarke suggests, merging onto the 515.

“Maybe wait a couple of days, she’ll think it’s weird,” he replies, voice a little wistful. “We talked twice a week before, we can get back to that.”

“You can,” she agrees. “But I’m sure she’ll want to see the Grand Canyon, so you have a pretty good excuse.”

To her relief, Bellamy actually chuckles at that, and she glances over to find him looking more or less relaxed in the passenger seat. “Good point, I’ll text her later and see what she says once they land tomorrow.”

She flashes him a smile before turning her focus back to the road. He doesn’t let go of her hand, but his grip lets up a little and feels more like companionship than a need for support, and he leans forward to turn the radio on. He flips through the stations, stopping when he finds one playing classic rock, and soon they’re flying down the I-11 singing along to _Sweet Home Alabama_.

It’s still technically the Fourth of July weekend, and Hoover Dam is apparently a popular destination for that – the parking garage is almost full, and there are several tours going on at the actual dam. Clarke’s been before, and Bellamy has, of course, read up on the dam, so he offers some commentary while they explore on foot, foregoing driving across the actual dam.

It’s as impressive as always, of course, the Colorado River far below, the rocky walls of the Black Canyon rising on either side, the sun making the color differences even more prominent.

“Shit, it’s high,” Bellamy mumbles when they’re stopped at one of the viewing spots, leaning just a little over the edge. He snaps a couple of pictures before straightening up.

They continue across the entire dam before crossing the road and going back along the other side of the dam, stopping at the café to grab an early lunch, and are back on the road by a few minutes to one.

Arizona doesn’t offer much in terms of change of scenery, at least at first. They catch glimpses of the river and canyon now and then, but apart from that, it’s desert in all directions for the hour it takes to get to Kingman, where they make a five minute stop to check out the map Bellamy found. It’s pretty cool, Clarke has to admit. Definitely worth a ten minute detour, especially since they make good time and it’s only a quarter to five when they arrive at their hotel in the Grand Canyon Village.

“Are we up for a…” Clarke pauses, checking her watch, “…three hour hike? Or do we want to take it easy for a while and just take a shorter walk along the canyon later, to catch the sunset?”

They’ve checked in and gotten their room, and are currently grabbing a snack at the hotel café.

“We’ve been in the car most of the day, so I wouldn’t mind getting out and moving around a little,” Bellamy replies after a moment, crumbling up the wrapper from his chicken salad sandwich. “Did you have a specific hike in mind? And by ‘hike’, do you mean rough terrain? I’m not really up for climbing or anything.”

“I was mostly thinking we head down to the visitors’ center and then basically follow the rim trail,” she expands, swallowing down the last of her own tuna sandwich. “Check out the different viewpoints along the way. As far as I remember, it’s paved, so it’s more of a walk than a hike, really. No climbing whatsoever, promise.”

“So a three hour walk then?”

Clarke rolls her eyes but ignores his teasing and opens Google Maps, zooming in on the area. “Hopi Point has an amazing viewing platform, 180 degrees, and I think that’s the best spot for watching the sunset. It’s not quite five miles one way, an hour and forty-four minutes according to Google so around three and a half hours if we want to walk all the way back.” She looks up at him. “What do you think? We can always turn around earlier if we want, or I think we can get the shuttle back…” She pauses to switch to a browser and find the shuttle service website. “Yeah, it doesn’t stop at Hopi on the way back, but Powell is just a few minutes’ walk away and it stops there.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Bellamy agrees with a nod. “But we should probably bring one of the backpacks with water and something to eat, just in case.”

“Definitely.”

So they finish up and stop by the room to grab some provisions, put on a couple of baseball caps against the sun, and Clarke puts Raven’s camera around her neck as well. If there’s any time when they should get photos of professional quality, it’s definitely now.

Twenty minutes later, they get their first look at the canyon, partially hidden by the trees lining the railing, but still undeniable.

Bellamy stops in his track, mouth falling open as he takes in the view.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” she says, and he snaps out of it.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve seen pictures, but it definitely doesn’t compare to the real thing.”

They start along the path, pausing at Mather Point – which is crowded as always – a minute or so later.

Bellamy leans on the railing, taking the panoramic vista in from right to left, and lets out a long breath. The sun is beaming down on them, though it’s nowhere near as hot here as it was in Las Vegas, and the temperature is starting to drop further as the golden orb descends slowly towards the horizon. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, his focus on the natural wonder in front of them.

His skin seems to glow in the bright sunshine, and for the first time in a while, Clarke thinks that he looks at peace.

_This_ is the way she wants to remember him, she realizes. Relaxed, happy, eyes slightly widened in awe at the miracle in front of them. She lifts Raven’s camera to her face and focuses on his features before pushing the button.

He turns to look at her at the sound of the shutter, a half-smile on his face. “Hey, I wasn’t ready for that one,” he objects amusedly.

She lets the camera swing from the strap again and shrugs. “It was a nice moment.”

He chuckles lightly, coming to stand next to her. “Show me.”

She lifts the camera again, turning it to viewing mode. “See?”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “That’s pretty good.”

It’s more than pretty good – it’s beautiful. The rugged landscape blurry behind him, the sun casting shadows on his face, bringing out the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

She thinks that maybe, once things have settled down and she can bring herself to go through the photos from this trip, she’ll want to have this one developed. Maybe turn it into a painting, if she can figure out how to get the play of light and shadows right.

She knows it will be a long time before she gets to that point, but she also knows that when she does, she’ll be grateful to have this.

“Selfie for Raven?” Bellamy suggests, pulling her out of her thoughts, and they snap a couple before continuing along the path.

It follows the edge of the canyon most of the time, now and then detouring a little further from it, viewpoints here and there, and they check out each one. They keep up a good pace, though, and when they reach Hopi Point, the sun is still some ways above the horizon in the distance.

This viewing platform here is even more crowded than the one at Mather Point, so they continue a little ways past it, stopping instead at a spot along the trail that’s fairly deserted.

Bellamy turns in a half-circle, as if he’s scoping the place out. “Yeah, this feels like a good spot,” he decides, turning back to her.

“Glad it gets your approval.”

He rolls his eyes but joins her on the bench she’s sat down on and accepts the bottle of water she hands over.

The sky is mostly clear, a few fluffy clouds just above them, but nothing to take away from the spectacular scene as the sun slowly sinks towards the horizon. Clarke keeps Raven’s camera at the ready, snapping pictures every now and then, and Bellamy pulls out his phone after a while to film the last few minutes, the shadows rising slowly up the peaks below them, and then the final rays as the sun finally dips below the canyon.

They stay on the bench in silence for a while after, just watching the play of colors in the wake of the sun.

“You know,” Bellamy then starts. “If I was ever going to be converted to some sort of religion, this would probably do it.”

Clarke lets out a surprised laugh at that. “I guess so,” she then agrees, after thinking about it for a moment. “If there’s one thing that can convince you of some sort of… divine power or whatever, it’s the everyday miracles of Mother Nature.”

“That and the fact that there’s apparently some sort of higher power that decides when people die, of course,” he adds, voice light, but it still brings her mood down a couple of notches.

“Yeah…”

He doesn’t miss the hitch in her voice, of course, and reaches for her hand with a frown. “Sorry, that wasn’t meant to be a downer or anything.”

“I know.” She forces a smile onto her face. “Ready to head back?”

“Sure,” Bellamy agrees, eyes still intent on her. “Want to catch the shuttle or walk?”

It’s only eight thirty, and it’s not like they’re in a hurry. “Let’s walk, it’s a nice evening.”

He nods and gets up, pulling her to her feet as well, and they set off back along the canyon. He keeps a firm hold of her hand, thumb rubbing circles against her skin, and Clarke lets the moment go.

There will be more, she knows, but there will be good ones too, and those are the ones to focus on.

-100-

“Come on, Princess, time to wake up.”

Clarke’s not sure how she managed to sleep through the actual alarm, but Bellamy’s arm wrapping around her and his low voice is a much better way to wake up.

“What time is it?” she mumbles, burrowing against him for a moment.

“A few minutes after five. We should get up if we want to catch the sunrise.”

She allows herself one deep breath, inhaling the scent of his sleep warm body, before rolling into a sitting position. “OK, I’m up.”

She can’t say she’s exactly alert, though, but luckily, he takes the lead, helping her pull on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants.

The cold morning air – according to the car, it’s only forty-two degrees – wakes her up a little more, but she still lets Bellamy drive the short distance to the parking lot at the visitors’ center.

The sky has already started to lighten, and when they reach Mather Point, tendrils of pink and purple and gold are trailing across the sky. It’s not quite as crowded as last night, but there’s still more people than Clarke would have expected, cameras poised for the first glimpse of the sun in the distance.

“Huh.” Bellamy hums. “I didn’t think we’d be alone, but I wasn’t expecting a crowd,” he says, voicing her exact thoughts.

“Yeah, me neither.” She scans the viewing platform. “Come on, over there is less crowded.”

She tugs him along to a smaller platform off to the right, and they claim spots by the railing.

“So what do you prefer?” he asks after a quiet moment. “Sunset or sunrise?”

“We haven’t seen the sunrise yet, I’ll let you know soon.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was talking generally, not here specifically.”

“Ah.” Someone elbows Clarke lightly in the side and she moves closer to him. He takes a step back so she can fit between him and the railing, and cages her in with one hand on either side of her. “I was going to say sunset, but I think that’s mostly because it’s usually such a hassle to actually see the sunrise,” she continues. “But as a concept, I think I like sunrises more. A new day, you know? The beginning of something, not the end.”

He hums, his breath warm against her cheek, and leans his chin against her shoulder. “Good reasoning.”

Someone off to their right makes a shushing sound, whether directed at them or at everyone, she’s not sure, but the effect is immediate and silence descends over the platform.

“This feels like Dubai all over again,” Bellamy notes quietly in her ear, and she nods.

A moment later, the first rays of sunshine spread across the canyon, and she hears people gasping all around them.

It really is spectacular.

They stay until the sun has risen above the horizon completely, and then they both shift at the same time.

“Back to the hotel for a few more hours of sleep?” Clarke suggests, even though she’s not sure she’ll be able to get back to sleep.

He nods, mouth turned up in a half-smile. “Come on.”

Their room has blackout curtains, so it’s actually still dark and pleasantly warm after the cold morning. She doesn’t bother getting undressed again, just crawls under the covers.

“Alarm for nine?” Bellamy asks, eyebrows raised and his phone in his hand.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” she agrees. “Don’t want to sleep the whole day away and have to drive all night.”

He sets the alarm and slides in next to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in close.

She’s asleep again within minutes.

The second wake-up of the morning is less pleasant, Bellamy’s alarm blaring angrily somewhere to Clarke’s left. She reaches out blindly but doesn’t even reach the bedside table. A second later, he groans and shifts underneath her, eventually managing to turn it off.

“It might have been better to just stay awake,” he notes through a yawn. “I’m much more tired now than I was three hours ago.”

“Morning shower to wake up?” she suggests, rolling off him and stretching.

“Are you joining me?”

She turns her head to look at him, finding her favorite, lazy morning smile on his lips.

“If you insist…”

They stop short when they enter the bathroom, though, since apparently both of them had forgotten that there’s no shower cubicle, just a tub, with only a simple sink, the toilet and a basic shelf making up the rest of the room.

“Rain check?” Bellamy suggests. “We want to get going anyway, right?”

“We do,” she agrees a little reluctantly. “And we’re staying at a Marriott hotel tonight, I bet they have better bathrooms.”

He chuckles at that. “There’s nothing wrong with this one, it just wasn’t built with people wanting to hook up in mind.”

“Exactly. What were they thinking?”

He’s still laughing as he pulls his shirt over his head. “I’m still taking a shower.” He pauses with one hand on the drawstring of his pants. “You staying to watch the show…?”

Clarke pretends to think it over, running her eyes up and down him slowly. “Go ahead, I’ll pack the last of our stuff in the meantime.”

“Tease!” he calls after her when she turns her back on him.

“Not my fault this place doesn’t know how to do sex-friendly bathrooms.”

In the end, it’s probably good for their schedule that they don’t get distracted in the shower – they pack up the car before grabbing breakfast, and are on the road before ten thirty.

“So, eight hours today, right?” Bellamy asks when they’ve been driving for a while and are merging onto the highway.

“Eight to nine, depending on traffic and any road work, I guess,” she replies. “And we have a couple of stops, right?”

He pulls his phone out to check. “Just one actual stop, at the meteor crater, then the petrified tree in Holbrook I think we can just pass, and the musical road we kind of _have_ to drive, so…”

“OK, good. And tomorrow will be another eight hours, so two long days in the car to look forward to.”

“At least it has AC,” he notes, and Clarke laughs.

“At least there’s that.”

But it is a long day. The meteor crater turns out to be a brief stop – you can walk around it, or even climb down into it if you want, but they’re both happy to just check it out from the edge and then keep going – and the petrified tree is clearly visible from the road, so their first longer stop is in Gallup, where they grab lunch at an Applebee’s just off the highway. They switch after lunch, Bellamy getting behind the wheel for a while, and Clarke leans back against the passenger’s seat, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Tired?” he asks, reaching for her hand once he’s gotten back onto the highway.

“I think you were right, we should have just stayed up this morning,” she replies, covering a yawn with her hand and opening her eyes.

“Good to know for the future,” he notes, hiding a yawn of his own, and she swallows down the response that flashes through her mind, that they don’t have all that much future left anyway.

Nineteen days today.

She turns the radio on to try to distract herself from the thought, and it does work, or it works as well as anything. It’s not like the countdown hasn’t been somewhere in the back of her mind for the last… eight months, really, but especially since the Seychelles, since Bellamy’s Number went from three digits to two.

She hadn’t thought she was ready for this, not really. Which doesn’t matter, of course – you can know something is going to suck and still not be prepared for just how it’ll suck.

“Princess?”

Bellamy’s voice finally pulls her out of her own mind and she turns to look at him, leaning back against the headrest.

He glances at her with a frown. “Where did you go?”

“Just… thinking,” she replies with a half-shrug.

“Well, stop it,” he says, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what I said, but I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” she assures him, letting out a long breath.

“Want to play a game?” he suggests.

Clarke can’t help but laugh. “Like what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “We never did road trips when I was a kid, I think you have more experience in this area. All I’ve got is ‘I spy’.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ve never really played any games like that either,” she tells him. “But we can do ‘I spy’.”

And it’s actually pretty fun, mostly because Bellamy picks completely random things that she can’t actually _prove_ he hasn’t seen on the side of the road, but that seem so unlikely – like a red Coke bottle, a blue sneaker and a purple backpack. When he claims he’s spotted an orange paper cup, she declares the game over on the basis that he’s obviously been cheating.

But she’s also been laughing for the last half hour or so, so the original purpose has obviously been fulfilled.

They’re also just leaving Albuquerque, and need to get back on Route 66 to find the musical highway.

“So I just need to go 45 miles per hour on the rumble strips?” Bellamy asks when they spot the first sign.

“I think so,” Clarke confirms, rolling down the window as he sets the cruise control to the correct speed.

It’s definitely cool – she can pick out the notes of _America the Beautiful_ , even if it’s not perfect or anything.

She says as much, making Bellamy laugh.

“What were you expecting? They’re road markings, I’m amazed anyone came up with getting them to make music in the first place!”

He’s right, of course, but she still rolls her eyes. “Well, when you put it _that_ way…”

Even though they’ve kept all their stops brief, it’s still after eight by the time they finally get to Roswell, and they just drop their stuff in the room before heading back out to check out the city and grab some dinner.

Roswell itself is actually a lot more low-key than Clarke was expecting. Sure, there are some alien references – street lights with lamps looking like alien heads lining the main street, a UFO shaped McDonald’s, and, of course, a couple of funnily named stores and restaurants, like ‘Stardust Antiques’ – but really not that much, and it’s mostly just another American town.

It’s a little disappointing, if she’s honest, and she’s glad they’re not planning to stay here longer than overnight.

They grab some burgers at a grill on the way back to the hotel, but it’s still pretty early when they’re back in their room.

“Want to watch something on TV?” she suggests, opening her backpack to grab a change of clothes.

She feels Bellamy behind her, and when he speaks, his voice is low, just an inch or so from her ear. “I seem to remember someone asking for a rain check this morning…”

His arm sneaks around her and he places a kiss on her shoulder, making it very hard to actually think, but she does manage. “ _I_ seem to remember that someone being _you_ ,” she points out, voice coming out almost normal, which is an achievement.

He chuckles, pulling her back against him and playing with the hem of her shirt. “Details. Want to see if this bathroom is… more suitable?”

“Does it have to be the bathroom?” she asks, turning around to be able to lean up and kiss him.

He returns the kiss for a long moment, one hand slipping under her shirt and up her spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake, and the other anchoring on her hip.

“Not necessarily,” he says, a little breathless, when he finally breaks away. “I just got this image in my head this morning, of trying to fuck you on that sink, which wouldn’t have worked, I know, but there’s a nice vanity in this bathroom…”

Of course, his words bring that same image to Clarke’s mind, and her stomach swoops in anticipation. She reaches behind her, finding the desk she knew was there, and lifts herself up onto it.

“There’s a perfectly good desk right here,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

Bellamy steps closer, leaning one hand on either side of her thighs. “I like the way you think.”

Then he pulls her shirt over her head before leaning down to kiss her, and she doesn’t do much thinking anymore. His mouth is demanding against hers, his hands a little more urgent against her skin than usually, but she gives as good as she gets, making quick work of his shirt as well.

They hit a bit of a snag when they realize she’s still wearing her jeans, and she has to get down to pull them and her underwear off, but while she gets rid of them, he removes the last of his own clothing. He lifts her back up onto the desk, pulling her forward until she’s on the edge, and she reaches down to guide him inside her.

He stills for a moment when he’s completely buried inside her, breathing deeply, and she’s the one to pull him down to her, the one to dig her heels into his back to get him to start moving.

It’s fast and urgent and a little rough, his hips snapping against hers, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. When he brings one hand up to her breast and twirls her nipple between his fingers, she lets out a moan that he swallows.

When Clarke breaks the kiss to lean back against the desk for better leverage, he takes the opportunity to pull one nipple into his mouth, his hand still playing with the other, and she feels the first tendrils of her orgasm.

“Please… I need…” she manages to get out, but luckily, that’s enough – his other hand slides down her stomach and he finds her clit with his thumb, immediately pushing her over the edge.

He slows as she trembles around him, moving up her throat to kiss her neck, arm once again wrapping around her to hold her close.

When she’s finally come back down, she pulls in a deep breath and opens her eyes to find Bellamy looking down at her, eyes soft. When their eyes meet, he leans down and kisses her, a much softer kiss than earlier.

She pulls away after a moment. “Bed?” she suggests. “This desk really isn’t very comfortable…”

He chuckles but wraps his other arm around her as well and maneuvers them over to the bed, slowly lowering them both to the mattress.

“Good?” he asks and she nods, wrapping her legs around him and arching her hips.

He takes the hint, pulling out of her almost completely before pushing back inside, both of them moaning at the new angle. He picks up the pace, finding her lips for an almost bruising kiss, and she doesn’t quite come again before he does, but he does get her off once more before collapsing on his back next to her.

“Worth the wait?” he asks, mouth quirking up on one side.

Clarke lets out a laugh and rolls onto her side to be able to curl up next to him. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	56. A Hand Cuts Through the Breeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More roadtrip coming up! Also a bit of a blast from Bellamy’s past… hope you enjoy :)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Never Coming Down” by Faber Drive

They don’t linger in Roswell the next morning, just grab some breakfast and pack up the car, so they’re on the road by nine.

“Just one stop today, right?” Clarke asks from behind the wheel when they’ve left the city behind.

“Yup,” Bellamy confirms, not even consulting the list on his phone. “Ingram, Texas. But it’s, like, an hour from San Antonio, so I’m thinking we’ll need to stop for lunch before that.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. So what’s in Ingram, Texas?”

She glances at him at the exact right moment to catch a slightly sheepish look on his face.

“It’s… kind of silly, maybe,” he starts, words dragging a little, as if he’s reluctant to tell her. Which makes absolutely no sense, considering he has stuff like the world’s largest cowboy boots – San Antonio – and the world’s largest roller skate – Bealeton – on his list. “This guy’s built a sort of replica of Stonehenge, what it might have looked like in its complete state, I thought it would be fun to check out since we’ve been to the real thing.”

“What do you mean by ‘silly’, that’s awesome!” she assures him. “If I’d known it existed, I probably would have suggested it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

It’s another long day in the car, no stops for hours except lunch at a dingy, roadside diner in some tiny town they pass around one in the afternoon, and to fill up the tank half an hour or so later.

But it’s a wonderful day, the sky wide and blue above them, the AC keeping them cool despite the temperature rising to the low nineties outside, and once they leave Arizona behind for Texas, their surroundings turn from mostly desert to fields and towns, offering a bit of variation.

Still, they’re both happy to get to leave the car for a while when they finally reach the park where the Stonehenge replica is displayed.

“What’s that?” Clarke asks as they pass some sort of stone statue.

Bellamy glances out the side window. “I read that there are some replicas of those stone heads on Easter Island here, that must be one of them.”

She laughs. “So Stonehenge wasn’t enough?”

“Guess not,” he replies with a shrug.

They park on a small, gravel parking lot by another huge stone head and get out, both stretching their limbs out a little.

It’s a little weird, not an exact replica, since it’s complete in a way the real Stonehenge isn’t, but it’s still cool. They stroll around for a few minutes, get some funny photos with the stone circle and the stone heads, and then get back in the car for the last hour.

“OK, it probably wouldn’t have been worth a long detour,” Bellamy admits when he pulls out onto the road again, “but it was kind of fun.”

“Absolutely.”

It’s still light when they get to San Antonio, even if the sun is beginning to set, so they just drop their stuff off at the hotel and head out. Since the main thing they want to see in the city – apart from the large cowboy boots Bellamy found, which they made a pit stop at on the way into the city – is the Alamo, Clarke booked a hotel right by the old mission. She wasn’t sure when they would get here, though, so she’s booked an audio tour for them in the morning, before they leave for Houston. Which means they have tonight to check out the rest of the city.

It’s still way too hot out, though, so they make their way to the San Antonio River, where the large cypress trees lining the river walk offer some shade.

“This is nice,” Bellamy notes.

“Yeah, it’s a cool place,” she agrees. “It’s been updated and expanded a lot since I was last here, way back in… sixty-two, I guess it must have been.”

He chuckles. “You know, it’s been a while since I was reminded I married a centenarian, thanks for that.”

She elbows him in the ribs. “Centenarian _and a half_ , thank you very much.”

“How could I forget?”

They stroll along the river at a leisurely pace, stopping at the occasional shop and pausing to read menus at the restaurants they pass, before picking a Mexican place. The food is fine, if nothing special, but the margaritas more than make up for it. Full and slightly tipsy, they continue on their way some time later, crossing the river at the picturesque Selena Bridge, and then again at the pedestrian bridge between Commerce and Market, to reach the Main Plaza. Their timing is apparently perfect – they reach the square a few minutes before nine, to find a large group of people waiting for a light show at the impressive San Fernando Cathedral, so they stay to watch it as well.

When the show ends, they follow the river back towards their hotel, making a detour to La Villita – all the little shops and galleries are closed for the day, but it’s still a nice area with beautiful architecture.

It’s around ten thirty when they make it back to the hotel, and they curl up in bed, turning the TV on to an old episode of _The Office_ before calling it a night.

They’re up bright and early again, waiting at The Alamo when it opens at nine.

“We didn’t have to get audio guides, you know,” Bellamy half-grumbles when they’ve been admitted and picked up their guides.

“I know you know all there is to know about this place, but I want you to enjoy yourself,” Clarke tells him. “Not have to give me a tour.”

He puts the headphones on before claiming her free hand. “But that’s the best part.”

She rolls her eyes before starting her own audio guide, and they follow it around the complex in mostly silence, Bellamy just pausing the tour a few times to point out things they miss or that he considers interesting.

They checked out of the hotel and packed up the car before they headed to The Alamo, so they take their time, exploring a little more when the audio tour ends, and then hit the road.

They don’t have any stops along the way today, so they continue until their stomachs start calling for lunch, and even then, they just grab some sandwiches from a Subway and fill up on gas before continuing.

“So, who are we visiting in Houston?” Clarke finally asks when they’re back on the road. They only have about an hour left to Houston, so she figures it’s the time to ask if they’re going straight to the hotel or making a pit stop on the way.

Bellamy’s driving, and he keeps his eyes on the road. “Her name’s Gina, she’s an old…”

“Girlfriend?” she finishes for him when he hesitates, and he nods. She knows it’s not one of the names he mentioned during their trip to Paterson, and sure, he’s probably had other girlfriends since then, but none that feel important enough to want to pay a final visit to. So she draws the only conclusion she can. “College girlfriend?”

He sighs. “Considering I wasn’t in college, it was probably more the other way around, but yeah. That’s her.”

She stays quiet for a moment, not sure how exactly she’s going to react to him wanting to see the girlfriend he accidentally got pregnant twelve years ago one last time.

“You OK?” he asks when she doesn’t say anything. “You know this isn’t some… you don’t have anything to worry about or be jealous about, nothing like that, OK? I just…”

Bellamy’s words put any potential insecurities out of her mind and she reaches over the console to take his hand. “I know, don’t worry.”

“It’s not like we had a bad breakup or anything,” he continues, voice contemplative. “We stayed together for a couple of years after… it happened, but then she got into grad school in Austin, and sure, we talked a little about trying long distance, but I had Octavia and couldn’t just take off on a regular basis, and we both knew that she’d be busy with school, so we just… agreed it was better to call it before it turned sour, you know? At the time, it felt like the adult thing to do, but honestly, looking back, I realize that we’d been drifting apart for a while and it was an easy out for both of us.”

“That doesn’t mean it was the wrong decision,” Clarke notes.

“I know.” He glances at her. “So don’t go thinking I never got over her or anything, OK?”

She lets out a laugh. “I won’t, promise. Do you want to head straight there, or stop at the hotel first? Do you even know where she lives?”

“We stayed in touch for a while after she moved, so I knew she stayed in Austin after school and then moved to Houston… four years ago, maybe. These days it’s basically just texts to wish each other a merry Christmas or happy birthday, though. But I did a tiny bit of Facebook stalking on Miller’s account before we left New York,” he admits. “I figured we’d stop by her place, we can catch up a little, see if she and her husband want to join us for dinner tonight maybe, and then we can head to the hotel?”

She’s not sure if he throws the ‘husband’ comment in there as further reassurance, but it is good to know.

“OK, sounds good. Give me the address and I’ll plug it into the sat nav.”

He does, and thirty-five minutes later, they turn onto Forest Home Drive, a typical suburban street. The yards aren’t huge, but the houses are nice, well maintained.

“I think it’s the next one on the left…” Clarke says, squinting at the number on a mailbox.

Bellamy pulls into the driveway of the next house, a contemporary building of brick and wood. There’s a two-car garage to their right, the door open to reveal a fairly new station wagon, a large tree with a swing hanging from one branch at the front of the house, and some toys strewn around the lawn.

“Having second thoughts?” she asks when he makes no move to turn off the engine.

He takes a deep breath. “I just… I don’t want to mess with her life, you know? Not that… I wasn’t thinking about Gina when I was writing the list of places I wanted to see, but then I was looking at the map and realized that we’d be passing Houston anyway, so I thought, why not? I know the broad strokes of her life, you know, but there’s only so much you can really learn from second hand accounts and Facebook, so I kind of… I want to know how she’s doing, make sure life has been good to her. But I don’t want her to think it’s some… grand gesture or something.”

Clarke considers that for a moment, not wanting to just disregard his worry. “You said she’s married, right?” He nods. “And judging by the yard, I’d say she has at least one kid. Plus, I’m with you, so I doubt she’ll think you’ve come to… what, confess your undying love and ask her to leave her whole life for you?”

He side-eyes her. “Thanks, really.”

“Anytime,” she replies with a smirk before sobering again. “But seriously, just tell her what you just said – we’re doing a cross-country road trip, we were passing by on our way anyway, and wanted to just… stop by and say hi. I really don’t think she’ll read anything into it.”

“You’re right,” he says with a half-smile. “I’m getting in my own head. Come on.”

The doorbell echoes through the house when he pushes it, and a moment later, footsteps announce the arrival of whoever’s inside the door. It opens to reveal a dark haired woman, hugely pregnant, with a bright red, plastic fire truck in one hand. When she sees them, her free hand flies to her mouth.

“Hey, Gina,” Bellamy greets her, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

She lets out a laugh. “As I live and breathe, Bellamy Blake… what the hell are you doing here?”

He glances at Clarke, who gives him an encouraging smile. “We were sort of in the neighborhood, wanted to stop by.”

Gina’s attention turns to Clarke and she offers her a warm, welcoming smile. “Well, come on in!” She steps aside to let them into the house and then leads them down a hallway. “You want coffee or something?”

“Sure, coffee would be nice.”

The hallway opens up to a large kitchen and living area, where a little boy – Clarke’s not great at kids’ ages, but she’d probably put him at around three or four – is playing with some Duplos. When he hears them, he looks up, and then comes to hide behind Gina’s legs where she’s preparing a coffee maker.

“He’s in a shy phase,” she says fondly when she’s finished, ruffling the boy’s light brown hair. “Can you say hi to mommy’s friends, Mason?”

He peeks out from behind her legs briefly. “Hi.”

“I suppose that will do,” she says with a sigh, before turning her attention back to her guests, extending a hand to Clarke. “Hi, I’m Gina, since this one’s not looking like he’s going to do introductions any time soon.”

That gets Bellamy’s attention and he rolls her eyes. “So sorry I forgot my manners for a moment there. Gina, this is Clarke, my… wife.”

Gina lets out a snort of a laugh at that, her smile widening. “He sounds really sure about that one.”

Clarke feels her own smile widen as well. “Well, in his defense, it is still pretty new.”

“Exactly, I’m still getting used to it.”

Gina laughs again. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Clarke. And good to see you again, I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

Bellamy half-shrugs. “That’s what happens when you move half-way across the country.”

Gina rolls her eyes at that and starts getting mugs from a cupboard. “And when you refuse to even consider social media.”

Mason seems to finally accept that the strangers aren’t dangerous and goes back to playing, and they settle around the kitchen table, where Gina can keep an eye on him, with their mugs and a plate of chocolate digestives that she finds in the pantry.

“So, seriously, what are you doing here?” she starts. “Unless you actually moved, which I’m pretty sure I would have heard about from Miller, you can’t have really been in the neighborhood.”

Bellamy rubs the back of his neck, obviously trying to find the right words, so Clarke takes over. “We’ve been traveling for the past six months, doing a sort of round-the-world trip, and now we’re wrapping it up with a cross-country road trip. We were already stopping in San Antonio and then in New Orleans, and Houston seemed like a good pit stop between those, so we figured we’d at least stop by and say hi.”

Gina’s eyes widened a little at ‘round-the-world trip’. “Wow, that sounds amazing. Where have you been?”

That gets Bellamy going, and he starts telling her about all the places they’ve visited so far, Clarke chipping in now and then, but mostly just watching the two of them.

She can definitely see how they would have been good together, they soon slip into what feels like natural ribbing, but it’s also clear that whatever feelings were once there have settled into what could have been a deep friendship if not for the circumstances.

She understands why Bellamy wanted to see her one last time.

Before the thought has a chance to bring her down, she makes a mental effort to shake it off, focusing back on the conversation, which has advanced to Las Vegas.

Gina chokes on the last of her coffee when he gets to the proposal and turns to Clarke. “He seriously proposed in the middle of _The Strip_?”

“Yeah, it caught me off guard too,” she replies with a smile. “I don’t know what I would have expected if I knew he was thinking about it, but that definitely wasn’t it.”

Bellamy finds her hand under the table and squeezes it. “Then I succeeded in my attempt to surprise you, so that’s good.” He turns back to Gina. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” she says with a nod. “It’s right by the front door.”

He gets up, squeezing Gina’s shoulder as he passes her. “Thanks.”

She waits until they hear the bathroom door close before turning to Clarke. “So how’s he doing?”

Clarke thinks the question through perhaps a little longer than necessary. “He’s good, I think.”

A soft smile appears on Gina’s face. “I always worried, after I left… it was the right thing for both of us, I know that, but he had such a hard time with his sister and work and everything… it was hard to not feel like I was adding to it.”

“You left in… 2010?”

She nods. “Yeah, Octavia was just starting her senior year. She’d gotten over the worst of her rebellious phase by then, but they were still butting heads about a lot of things. And even if he never said anything, I always knew that he… we met my freshman year, I had a class with Miller and he introduced us at a frat party he dragged Bellamy along to one night when Octavia was at a sleepover, so I didn’t know him before everything with his mom and getting custody of Octavia, but Miller told me how excited he’d been when he got his acceptance letter. So even if he never said anything himself, I always figured it was hard on him, watching his friends, watching me, get to do what he wanted while he was stuck at a job he didn’t particularly like…”

Clarke nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I know it was a difficult time for him… but he did get to go to school eventually, and I think he’s more or less happy with the way his life turned out in the end.”

“Seems like it. And teaching, that’s going to be such a good fit for him,” Gina says with another smile. “He seems happy. Definitely happier than I ever saw him. Don’t argue, it’s OK,” she continues when Clarke opens her mouth to do just that. “I know he loved me, and we were happy, but back then, there was this… cloud over him, I guess. A weight on his shoulders, what with losing his mom and taking care of Octavia and work… but that’s gone, and I’m so glad he finally gets to be just… happy.”

Clarke’s throat feels a little tight and she swallows before she can speak. “I am too.”

Gina’s still watching her closely. “You’re obviously a big reason for that, but also… Bellamy kind of glossed over it a little, but you have seen Octavia, right?”

“Yeah.” Clarke nods, not sure how much she should say, since it’s not really her story. “You knew about their… falling out?”

“I did, yeah, Miller told me when it happened and I… I thought about reaching out, but we weren’t really talking at that point. I emailed, and he asked Miller to tell me he appreciated it, but we never actually talked about it. But they’ve made up?”

Since she was involved in this part of the story, Clarke feels OK sharing it. “They hadn’t when we met, but when we were planning this trip, I decided to look Octavia up, and then we surprised Bellamy in Dublin, where she lives now.”

“So it took them that long.”

“And some outside interference. I think they’re both too stubborn for their own good,” Clarke suggests with a shrug and Gina laughs.

“Tell me about it. I’m still amazed you actually got him to agree to this whole trip, he was always… proud, I guess? It’s not like I was rolling in money back when we were dating either, but whenever I brought take-out over or picked up groceries on the way, he always insisted on paying me back. In fact, one of our worst fights was when my parents offered to pay for his flight so we could visit them over spring break the last year we were together. He didn’t talk to me for two days, and then he apologized but said he couldn’t accept ‘charity’.” She sighs, eyes on her son and one hand rubbing her belly absentmindedly. “I tried to tell him it wasn’t charity, but he just… wouldn’t listen.”

“Yeah, I was honestly shocked too when he agreed,” Clarke says, making up a story as she speaks, hoping Bellamy won’t contradict it. “I don’t know if he’s just… grown up or if maybe it was the circumstances. My parents died when I was nineteen, they left me my – our – apartment in New York and more money than I’ll ever need, so that might have been part of it. He knew I could afford it, and I was already planning the trip when we met, so it was more… he came along on my dream holiday, I guess.”

“That’s nice.”

“What’s nice?” Bellamy’s voice comes from the hallway and they both turn as he enters the room again, Clarke wondering how much of the conversation he heard. He was gone for quite a while.

“That you two got to travel the world together,” Gina tells him with a smile. “Greg and I went to St. John for our honeymoon, but that’s the only time we’ve left the continent.”

Mason pulls her attention away at that moment, coming up next to her and tugging on her arm. “Mama, play outside.”

Gina shakes her head. “It’s too hot outside, baby.” She glances at her watch. “And it’s time for your nap too, come on. I’ll be right back.”

The little boy grumbles a little as Gina leads him out of the room, but goes along, and soon, Clarke and Bellamy are alone.

“So how much of that did you hear?” Clarke asks once she’s sure Gina is out of earshot.

“I heard the stubborn part,” he replies with a smirk. “Thanks for that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, you don’t need me to tell you that you’re stubborn. But that was OK? I kind of had to think on my feet.”

He reaches for her hand and she squeezes his back. “Of course. Not like we can tell her the truth, and I don’t want her thinking it was anything personal.”

“I don’t think she does,” she assures him, pausing for a moment before continuing. “You want me to give you two a little time alone?”

Bellamy’s eyes soften at her question. “You don’t have to do that.”

But she’s already pulling out her phone. “It’s not a problem, I’ll just text Raven and ask her to call me in, like, ten minutes. You two should talk without an audience.”

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

Clarke waits for Raven’s confirmation before closing down the message app and putting her phone screen down on the table. “I think it might have slipped out once or twice this morning,” she replies, biting her lip at the memory of waking him up. Judging by the way his eyes darken slightly, he’s having similar thoughts.

He opens his mouth, perhaps to remind her of something he particularly enjoyed, but Gina returns at that moment.

“There we go, he should be out for a couple of hours,” she says, slumping back down in the chair she left a few minutes ago and rubbing her back a little. There’s still a smile on her face, but it’s a little weak, and Clarke imagines she must be tired – it can’t be easy to keep up with a toddler this late in her pregnancy.

“How old is he?” she asks.

“He turned three in February,” Gina replies, patting her belly. “So unless this one decides to completely ignore her due date, they’ll be roughly three and a half years apart, it felt like a good age difference.”

Clarke hums non-committedly, having no idea about that particular subject. “So not that long left?”

“A week or so, thank God.” Gina huffs. “I mean, I’ve lived in Texas for… nine years by now, I know the summers are always hot, but I didn’t have to worry about things like heat waves with Mason, so I didn’t even think about it when we started trying for number two, but let me tell you, I learned my lesson. I think we’ll be done after this one, but if we do decide to go for a third, we’re definitely planning it for winter.”

The thermometer in the car had showed a hundred degrees exactly when they arrived, and Clarke can only imagine how uncomfortable that must be in Gina’s condition.

“Thank God for air conditioning, right?” Bellamy pipes in and Gina laughs.

“Oh yeah, I definitely wouldn’t have made it through the last few months without it!”

Clarke’s phone starts vibrating at that moment, and she turns it over, pretending to be surprised at Raven’s name on the screen. “Sorry, I should take this – it’s my best friend, she’s house-slash-cat sitting for us while we’re gone.”

Gina nods at her. “Of course.”

Clarke offers both her and Bellamy a smile before leaving the room and slipping out through the front door.

The heat is like a wall and she quickly finds the shadow of the tree in the front yard before picking up. “Hey, Rae.”

 _“Hey, babe,”_ Raven’s voice comes over the line. _“So what am I saving you from?”_

Clarke sits down on the swing and pushes back a little. “Not saving me, just giving me an out so Bellamy could get some alone time with his ex.”

The line is quiet for a long moment. _“OK, not that I don’t trust that you know what you’re doing there, but what are you doing?”_

Clarke sighs. “It’s not as weird as it sounds,” she says. “The break-up was mutual and about as un-dramatic as they come, as far as I can tell. She’s not the one that got away or anything like that, he’s not looking for closure, he just… I don’t want to say that he feels responsible for her happiness or anything, but he just wanted to know that she was doing OK.”

_“And he couldn’t have done that on Facebook or by the phone?”_

“It’s not like it was a detour or anything, we already had San Antonio and New Orleans on the list, this was a logical stop on the way.” She knows it sounds like an excuse, but it’s really not.

 _“As long as you’re OK with it…”_ Raven says, still sounding slightly doubtful.

“I am,” Clarke says determinedly. “She and I had a good talk while Bellamy was in the bathroom, she told me it was nice to see him finally be really happy, so that’s…”

 _“He is,”_ Raven says gently when she trails off. _“You know he is.”_

“I do. OK, I want to give them some time, so just… keep me company for a while?”

_“That I can do. Hey, you said you’re going to New Orleans next, right? Is that a good idea with the hurricane?”_

“What hurricane?”

That conversation gets them through fifteen minutes, Raven checking different forecasts until they agree that it should be fine to still go to New Orleans, but they might want to leave on Sunday morning instead of Monday, as planned, to avoid the worst of the storm. After they hang up, Clarke does a quick search for hotels in Montgomery, noting a couple of possible options to show Bellamy later.

When she’s been outside for half an hour, she decides that it should be fine to go back in, and enters the house again.

Gina and Bellamy are in the same spots they were when she left, both laughing at something. Bellamy looks up when she enters the room, offering her a big smile. “Hey, everything OK with Bas?”

“Fine,” she replies, reclaiming her seat. “But apparently we’ve been so off the map that we’ve missed a potential hurricane approaching New Orleans.”

He frowns at that and Gina pipes in. “I was going to mention that, actually, when you said you were heading there next.”

“Is it going to be bad?” Bellamy asks.

“Raven checked a bunch of forecasts and it looks like it won’t be as bad as they thought originally, but it’ll still be at least a tropical storm, so I thought we might cut our visit short, leave on Sunday instead. We can re-evaluate when we get there if we need to.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They sit around chitchatting for a while longer, until the sound of an engine outside and then the door opening and closing announces the arrival of Gina’s husband.

“Hey, babe, we have visitors?” he calls from the hallway.

“We’re in the kitchen,” she calls back. “And Mason’s asleep, keep your voice down a little.”

The man appears in the doorway with a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry.” He crosses the room to extend his hand to Bellamy. “Bellamy, right? I’ve seen some pictures.”

Bellamy rises to shake the man’s hand. “That’s me. And you must be Greg?”

“Yup. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. This is my wife, Clarke.”

Greg turns to Clarke, again extending his hand, and she shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you,” he replies before leaning down to kiss Gina, one hand resting on her stomach. “How are my two favorite girls today?”

“Just fine. She’s been enjoying herself practicing kickboxing most of the day, but you know, nothing out of the ordinary.”

Bellamy glances at his watch as Greg joins them at the table, raising his eyebrows at Clarke. “We should probably head out,” he says and she nods.

“Yeah, we haven’t checked into our hotel yet.”

“Of course, you should do that,” Gina says. “I would offer you our guest room, but it’s currently being turned into a nursery and then the office is going to be pulling double duty as an office and guest room, so…”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Clarke assures her with a smile. “We just showed up without warning, and we have a hotel booked, we really weren’t expecting you to put us up.”

Gina looks at Greg, the two having a silent conversation for a moment. “You have to at least let us take you out to dinner,” he then says. “Show you what Houston has to offer.”

“That would be nice,” Bellamy replies, frowning a little at Gina. “As long as you’re up for it.”

She laughs. “Oh, I’m fine. I’ll take a nap with Mason and hopefully I’ll be able to stay awake later than nine, which is my usual bedtime these days.”

“If you’re sure,” Clarke tells her, and Gina nods.

So they make plans to meet at their hotel at eight, and take their leave.

“So that was good, right?” Clarke asks when they’re on the road again, her behind the wheel.

Bellamy gives her a smile. “It was great. Greg seems like a good guy and they’re obviously happy.”

She reaches over to squeeze his thigh. “I’m glad you got whatever it was you needed.”


	57. Bring Your Paintbrush, We're Paintin' the Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of new chapter this week, I’ve basically been keeping my head above water… but let’s get back to the Great American Road Trip!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Down in New Orleans” by Dr. John from “The Princess and the Frog”
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

They get checked into their hotel and have time to explore the city a little before meeting up with Gina and Greg again, who bring them to a restaurant a few blocks from the hotel which serves local cuisine.

“The best chicken fried steak in the city,” Greg assures them when they’ve been showed to a table.

“That’s a hotly contested spot,” Gina says amusedly. “But this place is definitely at least top five.”

The food is absolutely amazing, and after dinner, they take a bit of a detour back to the hotel, passing the beautiful old Harris County court house and the cathedral.

By the time they reach the hotel, Gina is leaning heavily on Greg. “Time to get you home and into bed, huh, babe?” he says fondly, squeezing her around the waist, and she offers a tired smile.

“Yeah, good idea. I can’t wait to be able to move around freely again.”

They all laugh a little at that.

“Thanks for a nice evening, guys,” Bellamy then says, giving Gina a hug before holding out his hand to Greg.

“Yes, thanks so much for taking us under your wings,” Clarke adds, shaking hands with Greg and then offering her hand to Gina, who pulls her into a hug instead.

“It was really good to see you guys,” she says when she pulls back. “I guess you’re getting an early start tomorrow, so you’ll have time to see some of New Orleans before the weather gets too bad?”

Clarke’s not sure what Gina might be getting at, but she glances at Bellamy, who shrugs. It’s only a five hour drive, so they don’t have to leave that early, but they probably should. “We don’t have to leave at first light or anything,” she says a little tentative.

“Well, I don’t particularly want to pack Mason up in the car and I don’t think I can get a babysitter on such short notice, but if you don’t mind taking a bit of a detour, I do make a hell of a breakfast,” Gina says, nudging Bellamy with her elbow. “Right?”

He chuckles. “She really does,” he tells Clarke.

Breakfast is included in their hotel room, but it’s not like they have to eat it, so she smiles at Gina. “That sounds great. What time should we be there?”

“Well, I’ll be up from six or so,” Gina says with an eye roll. “The joys of having a three-year-old in the house. But just let me know when you leave the hotel and I’ll get started.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Bellamy asks with a slight frown. “We don’t want to put you out.”

She nudges him a little harder. “Cut it out, Blake, I’m not an invalid!”

“I never said you were,” he assures her, hands raised, and her eyes soften.

“I’ll be fine,” she promises. “Unlike with Mason, I’ve been able to actually sleep pretty well this time around, so mornings are usually the best time of day for me.”

“OK, if you’re really sure, we’ll see you in the morning,” Bellamy agrees.

They say their goodbyes to Greg, who will have left for work in the morning, before entering the hotel.

“I’m assuming you would have said something if you didn’t feel like going over there for breakfast,” Bellamy notes when they’re getting ready for bed in the bathroom a little later.

Clarke rolls her eyes at him in the mirror behind the sink before spitting out the toothpaste in her mouth. “Of course I would have. I like Gina, it’ll be nice to see her again before we leave.”

They book one of the hotels Clarke looked up in Montgomery before they go to bed, and then she sends an email to their hotel in New Orleans to cancel their last night there. Bellamy’s scrolling on his phone when she gets into bed next to him, frowning at whatever it is he’s looking at.

“I can’t believe we missed the hurricane alerts,” he says. “I mean, we haven’t been watching the news, but I’m pretty sure I’ve checked them online every day.”

She gets settled in with her head against his shoulder, opening a news app on her own phone.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “I can admit that I was a little… distracted while we were in Vegas, and we’ve had long days since then. I honestly don’t know when I checked the news last.”

He hums next to her, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Maybe. Good thing we didn’t miss it completely and end up in the middle of a natural disaster, though.”

“Yeah, those are good to avoid.”

They check out a little after eight the next morning and are back at Gina’s place at eight thirty. When she opens the door to them, a delicious smell hits Clarke, making her mouth water.

It must show on her face, because Bellamy chuckles. “I told you her breakfast is amazing, didn’t I?”

“You did,” she agrees, turning to Gina. “Morning, thanks again for having us.”

Gina waves her off. “Don’t mention it. It’s been a while since I went all out with breakfast, it was actually fun. Come on in.”

The kitchen table is already set, piled high with pancakes, waffles, bacon, French toast and fruit. Bellamy lets out a low whistle next to her. “You really pulled out all the stops, huh?”

Gina just shrugs, nudging both of them towards the table before taking a seat herself. Mason is in a high chair next to her, already munching away on a pancake that he seems to have disassembled before eating.

“Can you say ‘good morning’, baby?” Gina asks pointedly and he looks up.

“Moning.”

Gina smiles and pushes some hair away from his forehead. “He’s having a little trouble with R at the moment, but we’re working on it, aren’t we buddy?”

Mason nods vigorously and turns his focus back to his pancake, and Gina turns back to Bellamy and Clarke. “What are you waiting for? Dig in.”

Bellamy wasn’t wrong – Gina’s breakfast is definitely amazing. The pancakes are just the right amount of fluffy, the bacon is fried to perfection, and the fruit is ripe and delicious.

Gina puts Mason down for his morning nap after they’ve finished eating, and they linger for a while, helping her clean up the kitchen and just talking. Clarke can tell that Bellamy is a little reluctant to leave, but in the end, he’s the one to actually say it.

“I guess we should get going.”

It’s a little after eleven, and with a lunch stop, they’ll probably be in New Orleans by five, five thirty, which will give them a little time to explore tonight. She meets his eyes, nodding once. “We should. Can I use the bathroom before we leave, though?”

“Of course,” Gina tells her. “You know where it is.”

She nods again and heads down the hallway to the bathroom, where she closes the door behind her and leans against the vanity. She figures she can give them a few minutes to say goodbye, at least, before either of them get suspicious.

It might be overkill, but she still flushes the toilet after a couple of minutes and then lets the water run for a little bit before actually leaving the bathroom again. She’s not sure if they heard her and wrapped up their goodbye, or if she just had perfect timing, but when she does, she finds them wrapped in a tight hug by the front door.

“Thanks so much,” Bellamy is saying quietly. “I know we just… descended on you without notice, but it was so good to see you again.”

Gina pulls away, resting one hand on her belly and reaching out the other to squeeze his hand. “I’m so glad you came, seriously. It’s good to see you happy.”

“Right back at you.” He squeezes her hand one last time before turning to Clarke. “I’ll go start up the car?”

She nods and he disappears out the door.

“He’s not very subtle, is he?” Gina notes amusedly, and Clarke laughs.

“That’s not one of his strong suits, no.”

Gina laughs too before pulling Clarke into a tight hug. “I’m so glad he has you, and that I got to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Just… take care of him, OK?” she says as she pulls back, a small wrinkle between her eyebrows. “He’s happy, it’s so obvious, but he can… get in his own head sometimes, you know?”

Clarke does know that – Bellamy said as much himself yesterday, even. “I know. I’m working on that.”

Gina nods. “Good. And he said you have Facebook, so I’ll be sending you a friend request as soon as you leave, I hope that’s OK? He’s never going to get an account of his own, and Miller barely uses his these days either.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Gina hesitates, biting her lip for a moment. “I guess he told you about what happened back when we were together?”

Clarke doubts she could mean anything but the unplanned pregnancy and subsequent abortion, so she nods. “He did, yeah.”

“We talked a little about it yesterday, and we both agree that it was the right decision for us, but… I don’t know if you two are thinking about kids or not, but if you are, that might… bring back memories, you know? I know he blamed himself back then, even though I told him not to, that it was my decision in the end… I think he thought that if he’d been more supportive or encouraging, I might not have gone through with the abortion, but just… don’t let him think that, OK? He says he doesn’t, but I know him.”

Clarke nods again, swallowing down the lump in her throat. The situation Gina’s painting isn’t going to happen, but this visit might have brought back the memories of that time for Bellamy. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Gina squeezes her hand. “OK, time to let you go. Don’t be a stranger, you hear me? It might be a while after this one arrives, but I’m sure Greg’s parents will be happy to take the kids at some point, and lord knows we deserve a break. I haven’t been back to New York since I came out here for grad school and I don’t think Greg’s ever been, a long weekend might be nice.”

“That would be wonderful.”

They part with another hug, and then Clarke slides into the passenger seat, leaning back against the headrest and closing her eyes.

“You OK?” Bellamy asks, starting the engine.

“She hinted at her and Greg coming to visit at some point once the baby’s old enough,” she tells him.

He’s quiet for a long moment, navigating through the neighborhood and onto the highway. “That would have been nice,” he then says quietly, and she opens her eyes to scrutinize him.

He looks calm if a little resigned, which she supposes is to be expected. She reaches for his free hand and clutches it in both of her own. “I’m sorry.”

That pulls his mouth up in a half-smile. “What did we decide about apologizing for things out of our control?”

“I know.”

They drive mostly in silence for a while, the radio the only sound in the car, but he doesn’t let go of her hand, a comfort for both of them.

-100-

Clarke was expecting the weather to turn before they reached New Orleans, but the sky is still blue with a few fluffy clouds dotting it when they arrive at their hotel. The wind has picked up, though, possibly the first sign of the coming storm.

“This isn’t too bad,” Bellamy notes when they’ve parked and gotten out of the car, tilting his head back to study the sky.

The heavy mood that they left Houston with lasted until they stopped in Beaumont for the next thing on Bellamy’s list of roadside attractions – the world’s largest fire hydrant. He was still a little quiet as they checked out the twenty-four foot tall, Dalmatian spotted hydrant, but when they got back in the car again, it seemed like he had decided to push past it, and he picked up their ‘I spy’ game again, which made the last couple of hours less tense.

“No, I was expecting way worse,” she agrees, opening a weather app on her phone. “Right now it’s looking like tomorrow should be fine, some rain and still windy, but not too bad. And we have tickets to the Voodoo museum in the morning, so that’ll keep us off the streets for a while. And even Saturday looks OK so far, some more rain and wind but not what I would expect from a tropical storm.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” he concludes with a smile. “OK, so what else do we have planned? Anything you want to get out of the way today, we have a while before sunset.”

She puts her phone away before answering. “I was thinking we could just check out the area?” Their hotel is in the heart of the French Quarter, so they’re right in the middle of things. “Honestly, most of the interesting things in the city is right here, the only other places I have on my list are the two Lafayette cemeteries over in the Garden district, I figured we could do those on Saturday.”

Bellamy nods. “OK, sounds good.”

“Is there anything in particular you want to check out?”

“Just the normal stuff, I think,” he says with a shrug. “The cemeteries, like you said. Marie Laveau’s house of voodoo, but that’s on Bourbon Street. The LaLaurie mansion…”

“There’s lots of amazing architecture here,” Clarke notes. “Let’s check in and drop off our stuff, and then we can go explore.”

So they spend the rest of the day wandering up and down the streets of the French Quarter, ticking off the places on Bellamy’s list and then some – Jackson Square, numerous churches, and old, colorful mansions. They decide to leave the two famous St. Louis cemeteries for tomorrow, when they’ll have more time, but do find the Tomb of the Unknown Slave, a monument honoring those lost under American slavery.

Once they’ve had their fill of sightseeing and the sun has set, they find a restaurant serving gumbo, which Bellamy has never tried.

“This is amazing,” he announces after a few bites.

“I know, right?” Clarke agrees, taking another large mouthful.

They find a small bakery still open on the way back to the hotel and pick up some beignets for dessert.

Their room has a small balcony attached with a beautiful, wrought iron railing and some patio furniture, and it’s still warm, so they bring their treats out there to avoid getting powdered sugar over everything.

“This place must be amazing during Mardi Gras,” Bellamy notes, eyes on the street below them where people are milling around.

“It’s a bit much,” she says, remembering the last time she and Raven celebrated the holiday in the city. “I mean, the parade’s cool, but there’s people everywhere, always something going on…”

He lifts an eyebrow. “So not really my scene, is what you’re saying?”

She drags in a long breath, looking away from him, eyes not really taking in the house across the street. “Not really, I don’t think… but I would have loved to experience it with you.”

She feels his hand close around hers, his thumb brushing against her palm. “I know, Princess.”

“Sorry, I brought the mood down again,” she sighs, turning her hand over to be able to play with his fingers.

He’s quiet for a long moment before clearing his throat. “You could… make it up to me.”

The statement in itself is fairly ambiguous, but she has no doubt she knows exactly what he means before she even meets his eyes, which are intent on her.

Clarke makes a show of looking around. The hubbub from the street below feels distant, suddenly, and while there are balconies on either side of them, as well as running along the house on the other side of the street, they seem to be the only ones enjoying theirs at the moment.

“Out here?”

Bellamy’s eyes widen at her question, making it clear that it’s not what he meant. Which she already knew, but she can pull his leg a little.

“I…” he starts, stumbling over the words, and she laughs.

“I was kidding,” she assures him. “I think we’ve reached our quota of semi-public sex on this trip, don’t you?”

He visible relaxes at that. “Definitely.”

She lets go of his hand and stands, stretching in a way that she knows makes her boobs look good, and turns to the open balcony door, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Well, are you coming?”

She doesn’t wait for his response before stepping through the door, and for a moment, the only sound is from the street below.

Then she hears the scrape of a chair against the balcony floor, and a moment later, a hand sneaks around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.

“Hopefully not too soon,” he murmurs in her ear, and despite the flash of heat at his mouth against her skin and his hand slipping under her shirt, she can’t help but laugh.

“Seriously, you suck at sexy talk.”

“Oh really?”

She knows from his tone of voice that it’s absolutely the wrong thing to say. Or, as it turns out, the right thing – wanting to prove her wrong, she concludes (before her higher brain functions stop working altogether) he keeps his mouth close to her ear as he slides one hand up under her top and uses the other to push her skirt up and her underwear to the side.

He keeps up a steady commentary as he pushes one and then two fingers inside her, thumb working her clit, his other hand busy with her breast, alternating between twirling her nipple between his fingers and flicking a blunt nail over the hardened bud, telling her how much he loves being able to turn her on so easily, how good she feels coming around his fingers, his dick, how the sounds she makes are fucking amazing.

It’s not the main reason she comes within a few minutes, but it’s definitely a contributing factor.

He releases her breast when the orgasm washes over her, anchoring his arm around her waist, which is a good thing since her knees don’t seem to be able to keep her up, and peppers her throat and neck, any bare skin he can reach, with kisses as she starts to come down again.

When the last of the aftershocks have subsided, Clarke pulls in a shaky breath, turning her head to be able to kiss him.

Bellamy responds immediately, deepening the kiss even as he slips his hand out of her underwear and slides it up to her stomach, pressing her harder against him. She moans into his mouth, arching her back a little and grinding back against him, feeling him hard against her butt.

“You want to take that back?” he asks a moment later, abandoning her mouth to kiss her shoulder.

Clarke chuckles. “Fine, you’re great at sexy talk when you want to be.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.”

He lets out a disappointed sound when she steps away, but immediately pulls her closer again when she just turns to face him. She kisses back eagerly but keeps some space between them, getting the button and zipper on his cargo shorts undone and impatiently pushing them down his legs before sliding her hands up his chest under his t-shirt, letting her nails rake lightly against his skin on the way down.

Bellamy breaks the kiss to catch his breath and she takes the opportunity to get the t-shirt off before giving him a gentle push in the direction of the bed.

He raises an eyebrow but takes a few steps back, until his legs hit the foot of the bed. “Princess wants to be in charge, huh?”

Clarke shrugs, getting rid of her own shirt on the way to the bed and then stopping a few inches in front of him, playing with the waistband of his boxers. “Well, I already got off once, I figured I should return the favor. Off.”

His eyes roam over her, making every inch of skin they touch feel like it’s on fire, but he makes no move to touch her, instead doing as she asked and pushing his boxers down and off. “Feel free.”

She glances down briefly, just to confirm that, yup, he’s at full attention, before lifting her eyes to his again. “Sit.”

He does and she leans in for a kiss, feeling his hands run slowly up her thighs until he gets to her underwear, hooking a finger in the waistband on either side to pull them down. She toys with the idea of telling him that she didn’t say he could touch her, but in the end, she likes it when he undresses her, so she lets the panties fall to the floor. He moves on to her skirt and she takes care of her bra in the meantime.

When she straightens up, Bellamy’s hands have moved back up to her butt and he pulls her forward. She just manages to get her legs under herself, so she’s straddling him on the bed and doesn’t just topple over him uncontrollably, and he noses at her collar bone before letting his tongue circle her nipple.

Clarke bites back a moan and arches her back against his touch. “I was going to blow you,” she does manage to get out and he hums against her skin.

“Later.”

She does get a hand between them to wrap around him, working him slowly as he kisses and nibbles his way from one breast to the other. Soon, though, his hand closes around her wrist to still her movement and she takes the hint, rising up a little to be able to slide down on him.

She pauses when he bottoms out, pulling in a deep breath, and then freezes when a loud laugh reaches them from the street outside.

“Shit,” she breathes, letting out a laugh. “The balcony door’s still open.”

Bellamy pulls back a little, looking over her shoulder. “Yup.”

She braces her hands on his shoulders. “I should close it.”

His hands lock in place on her hips, though, not letting her move an inch, and he leans in to place a soft, almost chaste kiss on her nipple. “You’re not going anywhere, Princess,” he tells her. “What, are you afraid you won’t be able to keep quiet? That you’ll alert all the people outside to what we’re up to in here?”

His words are unbelievably hot, and Clarke has to swallow to find her voice. “I thought we said no more semi-public sex.”

He shrugs, running one hand up and down her back, making her shiver. “It’s not like anyone can see us,” he points out, which is true. The balcony door is at an angle that makes it impossible for them to see out through it in their current position, which would also make it impossible for anyone not in the actual doorway to see them. But still. “And if someone hears…” he continues, one hand curling around her butt cheek to lift her slightly, so he can thrust up into her and pull a gasp from her, “well, so what?”

Bellamy has a good point, and if he’s not going to worry about it, then neither is she.

“When you put it that way,” she murmurs a breath away from his mouth, and then they’re kissing, finding a rhythm, and, God, she really isn’t that into public sex, but the occasional shout or laugh from the street outside is so fucking hot.

It seems to turn into some sort of competition, both of them trying to get the other one to make enough noise that it’ll carry to the outside, and they pull out all the stops, pushing each other’s metaphorical – and actual – buttons.

It’s definitely some of the best sex Clarke’s had, and she falls over the edge first, with a cry she has no doubt someone outside must have heard. He gives her a moment to come down before flipping them so she’s on the edge of the bed and he’s standing between her legs, and the angle almost pulls another orgasm out of her before he comes with a shout and collapses on top of her.

“I think _everyone_ outside knows what we’re doing in here,” she says breathlessly after he’s gotten her off once more with a firm finger against her clit.

Bellamy chuckles. “Yeah, probably.”

-100-

They seem to be in luck the rest of their short stay in the city – yes, it rains some, and the winds aren’t exactly pleasant, but considering there’s supposed to be a hurricane or, at the very least, a tropical storm, it could be much, much worse.

They check out the voodoo museum and the St. Louis cemeteries on Friday – marveling at the many odd tombs – and stroll around the Garden District more or less aimlessly on Saturday, checking out the Lafayette cemeteries as well.

“How many cemeteries is it by now?” Bellamy asks when they’re standing in front of what is allegedly the tomb of the voodoo priestess Marie Laveau.

Clarke frowns. “I honestly have no idea, I’ve lost count.”

“Still not creepy?”

“Nope.”

His arm tightens around her. “Good.”

She wonders if he’s thinking about his own eventual grave, wondering if she’ll come visit, spend time there like he used to at his mom’s grave. She glances up at him, heart skipping a beat when her eyes land on his forehead. 14. Two more weeks. So little time…

On the one hand, it’s probably not the ideal moment to bring it up – the cemetery’s not crowded, but they’re not alone either – but on the other, they only have so much time left to talk about it.

“Have you…” she starts, clearing her throat when her voice comes out shaky. “Have you thought about what you want?”

Bellamy doesn’t ask what she means, just lets out a breath. “You don’t have to worry about it, I wrote down everything I could think of and gave it to Raven, she’ll take care of it.”

It’s such a relief she almost sags with it, and he pulls her tighter against his side. She’s said all along that he doesn’t have to worry about it, that she’d take care of it, and she meant it, but knowing that Raven will handle whatever comes is a huge weight off Clarke’s chest. “OK.”

He places a kiss on top of her head and pulls her along down the path.

“Sorry I brought the mood down,” she apologizes after a moment. “Again.”

“It’s OK, we did need to talk about it,” he tells her with a squeeze of her hand. “But we should probably do something to pick ourselves up…”

“What did you have in mind?”

He glances around them – there are two large tourist groups close by, plus a bunch of other tourists in pairs or on their own.

“Well…” he then starts, mouth turning up in a smirk. “I know we said no more semi-public sex, but have you ever hooked up in a cemetery?”

As he probably knew, the question makes her laugh, and she manages to push the darker thoughts away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mentions of abortion, explicit (semi-public) sexual content


	58. We Could Steal Time, Just for One Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the lack of posting on Wednesday if you were waiting for the new chapter. To be honest, I’ll probably only be able to post once a week for at least two weeks I’m just super busy with work right now
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Heroes” by David Bowie

It’s still only raining a little on Sunday morning, and the wind has actually calmed overnight, so they probably didn’t need to leave a day earlier than planned to avoid the possible storm. They’ve done everything they wanted, though, so it’s not like losing a day in The Big Easy is a disappointment.

“Besides,” Bellamy notes when they’re back in the car, “this way we’ll have more time to appreciate the world’s largest brick.”

Clarke groans behind the wheel. “I’d forgotten that was in Montgomery. You do know you’re a little weird about these roadside attraction things, right?”

He just shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “We don’t have to.”

It really sounds like he means it, too, but he’d been so excited when they were talking about these, and it’s not like they have anything else planned.

“Nope, I’m invested now, and it’s not like it’s out of the way or anything,” she replies, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Bring it on.”

It turns out the world’s largest brick is on their way out of town, though, so they put it off until tomorrow and spend the afternoon and evening exploring the downtown area of Montgomery, where Clarke has never been before.

“There’s a lot of history here,” Bellamy notes when they’re stopped in front of a sign identifying Rosa Parks’ bus stop. “I’ve never been that into more recent American history, I was always more focused on ancient Greece and Rome, but this is interesting.”

Clarke pulls her phone out of her pocket and does a Google search. “There’s a Rosa Parks’ museum, like, two blocks that way,” she says, nodding down the street. “And a history museum, the Legacy Museum about the history of racial injustice, a civil rights memorial… I don’t know if we’ll have time for all of it, but Atlanta’s only a couple of hours away, and we don’t have anything planned there tomorrow night, we don’t really have to leave until mid, maybe late afternoon? If you want.”

Bellamy is frowning at his own phone. “Yeah, that sounds good. There’s also something called Old Town Alabama, which is an area with restored buildings from the nineteenth and early twentieth century, that sounds cool.”

“OK, well, let’s check out the civil rights memorial tonight, it looks like it’s outside of the actual memorial center and always open. Then we can decide which museums we want to hit tomorrow?”

So they grab dinner before strolling back towards the hotel with a detour to the memorial, and then spend the rest of the evening on their respective phones, reading up on the different options in the city.

In the end, they start at the Rosa Parks’ museum at nine the next morning, and then move on to the Legacy Museum. They don’t exactly rush through them, even if they probably could have spent longer at both, and have time for a quick lunch before making the two p.m. tour of the old Ordeman House in Old Alabama Town and then exploring the rest of the area until it closes at four.

“So did you get your history fill today?” Clarke asks when they’re walking back to the hotel, where they left the car. “I guess it’s been a while since we did anything really historic.”

Bellamy wraps an arm around her shoulders. “The Alamo was historic, that was just a couple of days ago,” he reminds her.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.”

“And I love everything we’ve done on this trip,” he continues. “There’s been more than enough history stuff, don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” she assures him. “Plus, we’re doing the whole Jamestown-slash-Williamsburg thing to top it off, that’s going to be fun.”

He looks down at her with a soft smile. “So my history boner’s rubbed off on you?”

“That’s a weird image,” Clarke says with a laugh. “But sort of, I guess. I’ve always been kind of interested, but I lived through a lot of the history in the US, so that wasn’t really on top of my list, you know? Like, I saw the moon landing, I don’t need to visit an interactive museum to relive it. But going to Rome and Athens and all of the places we’ve seen, I’ve really loved it.”

“I’m glad. I’d hate to think you’ve been bored this whole time.”

She rolls her eyes and he pinches her side, making her yelp.

They grab some coffee at their hotel before getting in the car and heading out of town. Bellamy did some more research into the world’s largest brick and found that it should be perfectly visible from the highway they’re heading down, so Clarke’s behind the wheel so he can get a look at it without them having to stop.

“Live up to your expectations?” she asks when they’ve passed it and he’s relaxed in his seat again.

“I don’t know,” he replies with a frown. “These things are always… with the whole ‘world’s largest’ thing, the expectations are pretty high, so it’s always a little… oh, is that it, you know?”

Clarke nods thoughtfully. “I do. And especially after seeing, you know, the world’s tallest building, the world’s… longest man-made structure? Is that the Great Wall?”

He grabs his phone from where it’s charging between them to check. “Yup. But sort of, yeah. So a little disappointing but still pretty cool, I guess is my conclusion on the great American roadside attractions.”

“Sounds like a good conclusion.”

Atlanta is just as hot and sunny as Montgomery was, and they opt to enjoy the air conditioning in their hotel room until the sun sets.

“How long is the drive to… Charlotte, right?” Bellamy asks after a little while. They’re both relaxing on the bed, Clarke checking her social media and Bellamy doing something on his own phone.

“Just four hours or so, unless there are any stops you want to make on the way,” she replies after checking Google Maps. “Why?”

“Just wanted to know the timeline,” he explains. “And I don’t have anything between Atlanta and Charlotte. So we’ll have time to check out the city a little before we leave tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I figured we could do some sightseeing and then leave after lunch, maybe.” She leans her head against his shoulder to be able to see what he’s looking at. “Did you find something you want to check out?”

“I was thinking the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site, maybe,” he says, tilting his phone so she can easily read the information on what looks like the official website. “Continue our twentieth century US history tour.”

“Sounds good,” she agrees.

“And look at this,” he continues, switching to another window. “Creepy, right?”

“Doll’s Head Trail…” Clarke reads out loud, and then flinches when he scrolls down and an image pops up. “Shit, yeah, that’s seriously creepy.”

It’s a doll’s head stuffed into what looks like an old TV, and when he continues scrolling down, there are more like it – a lot of heads, some with their eyes gouged out, some looking like they’ve been burned, all of them dirty or broken in some way, as well as complete dolls, which aren’t really that much less scary than the severed heads, and some other toys.

“It’s supposed to be some sort of urban nature trail,” Bellamy says with a shudder, closing down the site. “Some local guy created it as an art project.”

“You didn’t want to go there, right?”

“Fuck, no, I just didn’t want to suffer alone,” he replies with a smirk. “Now if I wake you up screaming in the middle of the night, you’ll know why.”

She glares at him. “Or I’ll be having the same nightmare. Thanks, really.”

“That’s what marriage means,” he says with a chuckle. “What’s mine is yours, including nightmares.”

“I don’t think that’s really how it works,” Clarke grumbles.

He’s still laughing, but he puts his phone away and wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer and nuzzling under her chin. “Sorry… want me to distract you?”

She tilts her head to give him better access, arching her back to get closer. “It’s the least you can do.”

And to Bellamy’s credit, by the time they leave the hotel to find somewhere to eat, all thoughts of creepy dolls are completely gone from Clarke’s mind, and once they finally fall asleep, she doesn’t dream at all.

-100-

They tour the birth place of Martin Luther King Jr. on Tuesday morning, stroll around the International World Peace Rose Garden, and listen to Dr. King’s speeches at the church where he used to preach, before continuing to King Center.

“That’s the same text that was on the civil rights memorial in Montgomery,” Bellamy notes when they’re standing by the Reflecting Pool with the tomb of Dr. King and his wife. “It’s from his speech, right? ‘I have a dream’.”

“Yeah,” Clarke confirms, glancing around to make sure there’s nobody too close that might hear. “I was there that day, actually.”

He glances at her, eyes wide. “When he made the speech?”

She nods. “The March on Washington was a huge thing,” she starts, not sure how to even explain it. “I always knew there were prejudice, you know? I mean, I had it better than so many people, being white, but a single woman in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century still drew attention and odd looks sometimes, and Raven… there was always someone looking at her the wrong way or talking behind her back wherever we were. And then, when I was with Lexa… that kind of thing definitely wasn’t accepted by the general public back then. So I knew, sort of, but it was always… a raised eyebrow here, rumors going around there about those two odd women living together without any men, and just… we could ignore it, you know? It was hard, but it didn’t outright affect our lives, unless we chose to let it. And then Wells and I moved back from London in sixty-two.”

“That’s where you met?” Bellamy asks.

“No, the first time we met was in… the eighteen eighties, the first time I was off on my own posting without Raven, actually. The two of them were stationed in Chicago at the time and I visited now and then, but we were just acquaintances for a long time, never in the same place for more than a few days. It wasn’t until I was transferred to London in fifty-five that we spent any time together, really, and that’s when we actually got together. And it wasn’t a problem, not there.” She pauses, reconsiders. “Or it wasn’t a big problem, at least. The Soul Keeper community has always been more open and accepting about pretty much everything, as far as I’ve experienced, and even our neighbors in London were friendly, even if we still got the odd look now and then. But then we moved back to the US, to Houston, actually, in sixty-two, and it was… bad.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers, squeezing her hand.

Clarke flashes him a brief smile. “We were basically run out of town. A group of men from the neighborhood jumped Wells just a few weeks after we got there, they probably would have killed him if he wasn’t…” She pauses, the memory still making her blood run cold even half a century later. “We were relocated again, to New York, which was _better_ , but not _good_ , you know?”

He nods quietly.

“So we were in New York when word started spreading about the Great March on Washington. Raven was up in Boston with Wick, but they came down and we all drove down to Washington to be there, and it was… I can’t even describe it.”

They stand in silence for a little longer.

“I wonder what he would have said about the world today,” Bellamy then says, voice thoughtful.

Clarke snorts. “Nothing good.”

“Probably not.”

They wrap up their visit and grab some lunch before once again getting back on the road.

“I keep expecting to get sick of being in a car all the time,” Bellamy notes once they’ve left the city behind. “But it’s kind of fun. Maybe the journey really is the goal.”

“You sound like a greeting card,” she teases him and he rolls his eyes.

“Won’t happen again.”

Neither of them have anything in particular they want to do or see in Charlotte, so they spend the evening just strolling around the city, exploring a little. When they pass the Mint museum, though, Bellamy insists on going back the next day, so Clarke will get to check out some art before they spend the last real day of their trip – she has a minor mental breakdown when he says that, but luckily he’s in convincing mode and she has time to pull herself together before he notices anything – on history stuff. She has to admit that the museum does seem cool, so they spend a few hours there before leaving town a little after noon on Wednesday.

“OK, so we have a bunch of those world’s largest things today, right?” she asks while he’s setting up the sat nav.

He snorts. “If by ‘a bunch’ you mean two, then yeah."

“Just two, really? I feel like your list was much longer when you first went through it, are you sure you haven’t taken anything off it?” He glances at her and she tries to look stern. “I know I was kind of complaining, but I was really looking forward to them.”

Bellamy offers her a smile and his phone, which is open to his notes. The top one is actually called “World’s largest – American roadside attractions” and hasn’t been changed since June twenty-eight. She has to think for a moment, but that was the day they left San Francisco.

“I haven’t removed anything,” he still assures her, pulling out of the parking lot at their hotel. “We have two on this stretch – in Thomasville and High Point – one between Jamestown and Boyce and the last one in Philadelphia.”

Clarke scrolls through the list as he maneuvers them onto the highway. “OK, good,” she finally says, closing down the app and putting his phone down. She can feel his eyes on her and turns to meet them. “What?”

He just shakes his head, smile widening, and turns his attention back to the road. “You’re just kind of cute, that’s all.”

She doesn’t know exactly what to say to that so she just pokes him lightly in the side, not hard enough to make him jump or anything, he is driving after all. He grabs her hand, just like she knew he would, and interlaces their fingers.

The first stop is just an hour or so outside of Charlotte – in the middle of Thomasville is a huge chair on a stone plinth. It’s really the only thing around, though, which Clarke realizes when she turns in a circle to find somewhere to have lunch.

“This is Main Street, right?” she asks, checking the street sign again. “Yup. East that way and West this way, so this should be the actual center of town.”

Bellamy’s watching her with an amused look on his face. “Is this leading to somewhere or are you just stating the obvious?”

“I’m hungry,” she replies, glaring at him a little for good measure. “But there’s, like, nowhere to eat here.”

He copies her and turns in a circle of his own. “You’re right. But there has to be something nearby.”

“Nope.” She has Google Maps open on her phone. “Or, yeah, there are a couple of places within walking distance, but they’re local, and I’m really hungry – I want something I know I’ll like.”

He wraps an arm around her waist and starts leading her back towards where they parked the car. “Then let’s keep going. High Point is just fifteen minutes from here, and if we find somewhere on the way, we’ll just stop there.”

They don’t pass anything promising on the way, but they do reach their next stop – the world’s largest chest of drawers – in fifteen minutes, so that’s good.

They’re in a more residential area this time, a small single family house on either side of the chest of drawers, which…

“There are socks hanging over the edge of that drawer,” Clarke says with a laugh. “See?”

Bellamy’s just pulled up to the curb, not even killed the engine. “Cool,” he replies, leaning over her to get a better look.

“Don’t you want to get out, get some pictures?” she asks with a frown. They did at the chair.

“I thought you were hungry.”

She rolls her eyes. “I can wait another five minutes, come on.”

She gets out of the car and, after a moment, he follows, phone in his hand. “There’s a Subway a couple of blocks that way,” he tells her with a nod down the street behind them.

“Sounds good. Now pose with the big chest of drawers with socks, Bellamy!”

He sighs but does as she asks and she snaps a couple of photos before joining him for a few selfies. When she’s happy with them, they get back in the car and drive the short distance to a small Subway restaurant opposite a Y.

It’s exactly what Clarke had in mind, and before they leave, she gets a couple of extra sodas, a few bags of chips and some cookies.

“What?” she asks when Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her.

“We just had lunch,” he points out, completely unnecessary.

“I know,” she replies with an eye roll. “We have another, what, four hours to go? We just filled up on gas, this way we won’t have to stop just because one of us is thirsty or want a snack.”

He looks at the four bottles she has sort of awkwardly cradled in one arm. “You drink all that, we’ll have to stop for bathroom breaks.”

She juggles a little and shoves two of the bottles at him. “These are for you, I think we’ll be fine.”

They’re slowed down a little by traffic around Richmond, but they still reach their hotel in Williamsburg a little after six. Clarke took over driving after High Point, which is good since Bellamy seems a little gob smacked by the building in front of them.

“We’re staying here?”

“We’ve stayed at a five star resort in Bora Bora,” she reminds him amusedly.

“Which was also a huge deal,” he reasons. “Seriously, this is so cool.”

She tries to see the hotel through his eyes. Sure, it’s grand, with the pillars and the fountain and manicured gardens around them, but it’s still just a building.

“I didn’t want to go totally time appropriate, since I kind of like having running water, so this seemed like a good compromise,” she explains, putting the car in park and unbuckling her seat belt. “Come on.”

She gets out and hands the key to the valet before rounding the car, where Bellamy’s waiting.

“Bags?” he asks as the valet drives away.

“They’ll bring them to our room,” she assures him, grabbing his hand to pull him along into the hotel.

They’re staying in the cheapest room the hotel has to offer, but even that’s five-hundred square feet of old-fashioned charm with dark wooden furniture, golden cornices with heavy curtains, and a bathroom with his and her sink and a sunken tub all set in marble.

Bellamy does seem awed by the room, but he quickly moves on to ask if they can go explore the town – either he’s getting used to staying in fancy hotels, or Colonial Williamsburg is just too much of a draw.

“Let’s just wait until our bags get here,” Clarke suggests. “Do you want to try to get in on an evening tour? I didn’t want to book something ahead of time since I wasn’t sure when we’d get here, but there might still be something available.”

He sits down next to her on the poufy couch. “What are the options?”

She opens the app up and finds the evening tours. “We’re doing Cry Witch tomorrow, that’s sort of a reenactment of the only witch trial in Virginia, but Haunted Williamsburg looked interesting too… looks like there are still tickets for eight thirty, what do you think?”

“It looks good, yeah. We’ll have time to grab dinner before, too.”

She clicks to buy the tickets, and just when it’s gone through, there’s a knock on the door announcing a bellboy delivering their bags.

“OK, so dinner, check out the town a little, and ghost tour?” she concludes when they’re alone again. “It starts at the Play House Stage which is, like, a ten minute walk from here.”

Bellamy nods, not quite bouncing on the balls of his feet but pretty close. “Let’s go.”

They forego the restaurants at the hotel for a tavern close by, which serves Colonial-inspired pub food. It’s good, in any case, and they leave forty minutes later with full bellies and only slightly tipsy from sharing a pitcher of beer.

“Did they even drink beer in the eighteenth century?” Clarke asks, looping her arm through his mostly because she likes to and only a little to keep steady.

“They drank beer in ancient Egypt,” Bellamy replies. “George Washington put a beer recipe in his journal.”

She snorts at that. “God, you’re such a nerd.”

“Did it take you this long to realize that?”

“Nope, I’ve known all along. You’re not even a little sneaky.”

It’s seven thirty and the sun is starting to sink lower in the sky, but the temperature is still in the nineties, so they take their time, strolling slowly along the quiet streets. There are some other tourists around, but not as many as she would have expected, considering it’s the middle of what must be their busiest season. Then again, it really is too hot to have energy for much, so maybe people are back in their hotel rooms, enjoying the air conditioning, before venturing out once the sun has set.

They pause to admire the Governor’s Palace, an imposing brick building, before continuing a short distance down Palace Green to their destination.

The tour is just as interesting as Clarke was hoping, even if she can imagine the spookiness factor rising considerably when it’s actually done after dark. As it is, the sun’s just disappeared behind the buildings when they set out, but they do get to visit some of the historic buildings in the town which are usually off limits to visitors, so that’s cool.

As usual by now, Bellamy’s read up on the place and supplies his own comments or reflections now and then, but he keeps them quiet, only for her, and really, it’s not a proper tour _without_ some kind of contribution from him.

“Seriously, did you never consider doing something like that yourself?” she asks when the tour is over and they’re strolling through the twilight. They’re theoretically on the way back to the hotel, but it’s finally dark out and compared to the heat earlier in the day, it’s more or less cool, so they’re taking a bit of a detour around most of the town.

“Do what?” he asks with a frown.

“Tour guide,” she expands.

“Huh.” He pauses, obviously thinking the question through. “I probably would have, if I’d had the opportunity, honestly. But there’s nothing like this near Paterson, or in New York, so I was limited to standard part-time jobs in high school, and then I got the delivery gig and didn’t actually need a second job…”

“Well, I think you’d be great at it,” Clarke tells him with a squeeze of his hand.

“Or horrible,” he replies with a snort. “I wouldn’t be able to limit myself to what I was supposed to be talking about, I would go on long tangents about stuff people don’t care about and the tours would be, like, three times as long as they’re supposed to be.”

She can’t help but laugh at that.

“OK, yeah, that’s probably true. But you’d still have fun.”

“I’d probably be the only one.”

Since they do have a bit of a tight schedule, they’re up bright and early the next morning and by nine, they’re waiting by the first stop on their rather intense half-day tour – Bassett Hall. Clarke has the app open on her phone with the itinerary she worked out before they even left New York, to make the best use of the time they’re planning on spending here. Bellamy made fun of her at first, but she just pointed out that they only had one day for Williamsburg and the Jamestown Settlement, so he… OK, he still laughed a little, but still.

It doesn’t feel like they really rush in the end, though – they make it to all the buildings that are open, even if they don’t take any of the tours. They did walk through basically the whole town last night, between the ghost tour and their own explorations, so they don’t need to linger anywhere outside, which does help. Bellamy gets a little caught up talking to the guy in the bindery, listening intently as he explains how books were made back in the day, and Clarke does lose track of time a little in the public hospital, their final stop, the cells of the old asylum bringing back memories of a similar place she volunteered at back in the early twentieth century.

“You OK?” Bellamy finally asks, when she’s stood staring at a display for probably way too long.

She offers him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, just thinking about how far medicine’s come in the last few centuries.”

He nods thoughtfully as they make their way out of the building. “Talking from personal experience?”

She sighs, squinting against the harsh sun. Another scorching day, and judging from the forecast, it’s not going to get better any time soon.

“I’ve volunteered in different medical facilities now and then,” she says. “So yeah, I’ve seen everything from… I don’t know, lobotomies and electrocution to bloodletting by leeches.”

He whistles, low, and tugs her down the street. “That’s some heavy stuff.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “But come on, we need to grab something to eat before heading over to Jamestown Settlement.”

They’re a little late for the lunch rush and both chose sandwiches, so they’re in and out of the tavern in half an hour and arrive at Jamestown a little ahead of schedule.

They spend the afternoon exploring the settlement, James Fort and the re-created Powhatan village, watching demonstrations of food preparation, weaving, forging and trying out some traditional games. Bellamy’s eyes are alit with excitement the whole time, darting between everything there is to see, making Clarke’s heart beat almost painfully in her chest.

She’s infinitely grateful that she gets to share this with him, but she wishes it wasn’t the only chance they have…

Once the settlement closes for the night, they head back to their hotel and relax for a while, before finding another tavern for dinner and then making their way to the Capitol General Court.

It’s an intense experience, and Clarke actually breathes a sigh of relief when the verdict comes back ‘not guilty’, even though she knows, on a logical level, that the actress playing the alleged witch obviously wouldn’t get burned on the stake if it had been different.

“So tomorrow we’re doing Historic Jamestowne, right?” Bellamy asks when they’re back at the hotel. “Last thing before heading out.”

“Yup,” she confirms. “It’s going to be awesome, there’s an actual archeological dig site, which is totally cool.”

He’s watching her with a smile as she talks. “So what’s the itinerary?”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, throwing one of the decorative pillows at him, which he of course catches easily. “The actual, like, buildings and stuff close between four and five, but you can stay on the island until sunset, so I figured we’d have plenty of time.”

He tosses the pillow back onto the bed and comes up behind her where she’s packing what she won’t need tomorrow morning in her bag. “Still, we should get an early start, right? So we should probably go to bed, so we’re well rested in the morning…”

He slides one arm around her waist to pull her closer and pushes her hair over her shoulder to be able to place a kiss against her throat.

“I doubt what you’re thinking is going to result in either of us being well rested in the morning,” she points out, but she slides one hand into his hair to keep him close and leans back against him.

“Promise I’ll let you sleep before midnight…”

Which, to be fair, he does, if only barely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been using the website atlasobscura.com a lot while writing this fic, to find unusual sights in various places, and that’s the site Bellamy’s checking in this chapter – the Doll’s Head Trail is a real thing, if that’s something you find cool, I’m sorry for calling it creepy!
> 
> Also, I realized I put Birmingham instead of Montgomery in the last two chapters, so I’ve gone back and changed that, in case you’re wondering about the inconsistency in this chapter!


	59. For What It’s Worth It Was Worth All the While

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really feels like we’re on the home stretch – B and C certainly are, getting back to New York in this chapter… still a lot of story left, though, and I hope you’ll stick with me until the end!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” by Green Day

They really are pros at efficient mornings by now – even with having to pack up the last of their things, checking out, loading up the car, and enjoying a delicious Old English breakfast, they have time to make a pit stop at the glass house before arriving at the Historic Jamestowne visitor center a few minutes after nine.

The sun is already blazing down, and the thermometer in the car showed eighty-five degrees when they parked, but at least the island offers some natural shade in the form of trees. And the visitor center is nice and air conditioned too.

They stroll through the introductory exhibit and watch the movie, getting acquainted with the place, before going back outside and following the other tourists along the footbridge.

“So, where do you want to start?” Clarke asks when they stop in the open space near the church, the water spread out in front of them.

Bellamy looks around, as if hoping for some sort of sign. “Well, I definitely want to do all the tours we can, there were… three, right?”

She pulls the schedule the woman who greeted them at the visitor center gave them out of her pocket and flattens it out. “Yeah, the archaeological tour, the first African’s tour and the first assembly tour. So… archaeology at eleven to twelve, then the others at two and three?”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a nod. “We still have almost an hour and a half before the first one, want to check out the archaearium, get some background on the dig?”

So they make their way there and spend the next hour exploring the many artifacts and admiring the paintings that tell the story of the first settlers.

The actual archaeological tour of James Fort is just as fascinating as Clarke had hoped, and judging by Bellamy’s perpetually widened eyes and slightly open mouth, he’s of the same opinion. Their guide, David, tells them about what they’ve found at the dig site, what those finds have told them about the lives of the settlers over four hundred years ago, and how they’ve changed and shaped the past.

“You know, I thought about studying archaeology back when I was applying for college,” Bellamy tells her when the tour is over and they’re exploring New Town. They need to grab something to eat before the afternoon tours, but they have almost two hours, so they’re not in a hurry yet.

“Yeah?” she asks, stopping to read a plaque.

“I was already into ancient Greece and Rome, it seemed like it would be fun,” he continues with a shrug. “In the end, I had pretty much decided against it by the time I realized I wouldn’t be going to school anyway. It’s not a very large field, it didn’t seem like it would be very easy to get work, and if I did, odds were it would be a professor position or something like that, not doing actual digging.”

“So you decided on history teacher instead?” Clarke flashes him a smile. “With zero chance of working on a dig site?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It seemed like the more sensible plan at the time. Not that it matters…”

“For what it’s worth, I think you would have made a great archaeologist,” she offers, reaching out to squeeze his hand and trying to not let the mood shift. They’re supposed to be having fun. “I can totally see you dressed up Indiana Jones style, trying to find hidden treasures before the bad guys.”

As she had hoped, he laughs and tugs her along again. “I don’t think the Indiana Jones movies are really a good representation of what it’s actually like to be an archaeologist.”

“Are you saying movies lie to us? They would never.”

They continue along the gravel road leading around the New Town, reading the information on the plaques provided, stopping at another dig site at the ruins of the Ambler Mansion, before heading to Dale House Café for lunch.

The afternoon tours are just as interesting – the first taking them around the fort again, and the second around New Town – giving them a deeper insight into the path to democracy for the early settlers, and into the first African Americans who arrived at Jamestown in 1619, exactly four hundred years ago.

They stroll around for a while after the last tour, checking out the church, just wandering around. It’s still way too hot out, but they find a nice bench in the shade of a tree, overlooking the river, where they sit down for a while and share the last of their bottles of water.

“Time to head back to the car?” Bellamy asks after a while, and Clarke sighs.

“Yeah, I guess. We’re still doing the island loop thing, but that’s driving, so…”

“And how long is the drive up to… Boyce, right?”

She freezes. “Shit, I forgot about that.

“What?” He gives her an incredulous look.

“I was just… I was focused on this,” she explains, waving a hand vaguely to indicate the area around them. “I forgot we had to drive for hours to get to the hotel, fuck.”

He just stares at her for another long moment before bursting out laughing. “I thought you were the one planning all of this!” he exclaims when he’s gotten himself under control again. “Shouldn’t you be on top of hotels and distances and shit?”

“I am,” Clarke grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. “I forget _one little thing_ …”

He’s clearly still struggling to not start laughing again, but he still wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, pulling his phone out with his other hand. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. It’s only… around three hours, that’s nothing. And the world’s largest roller skate in Bealeton seems to be literally on the side of the road, so we won’t have to take a detour or even stop for that.”

She drops her head against his shoulder. “I forgot about that too. I suck.”

Bellamy squeezes her. “That’s definitely not true. Now come on, the car is going to be a sauna, I want something to drink on the way.”

They make it to the visitor center with five minutes to spare and grab some more water and a couple of sodas before getting in the – yes, baking – car and starting the drive around the island.

It only takes half an hour, even though they do stop to check out Black Point at the far end of the island, and soon, they’re leaving Jamestown behind.

They probably could have stayed another night in Williamsburg and driven all the way back to New York tomorrow, and Clarke can admit that she might have been trying to drag the trip out a little when she put a final stop on the itinerary, but she’s glad now – going back to New York feels kind of like the end of the road. Which it is, of course, in an absolute sense, but it also feels like the end of… well, a lot more than just the trip. At least this way, she can put the inevitable off a little longer.

They stop for dinner and to get gas before getting off the I-95 and she gets behind the wheel so Bellamy can focus on the roller skate when they get there.

“Huh,” he says once they’ve passed it.

“Another disappointment?” she asks, glancing at him.

“Not quite as impressive as I was hoping, no,” he admits.

“What do we have left now?”

He finds his phone and opens his list. “World’s largest pencil and world’s largest clothes pin.”

“Oh, I’ve seen that. It’s in Philadelphia, right?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, putting his phone away again. “The pencil’s in Glen Burnie, a suburb of Baltimore.”

“OK, so that first and then Philadelphia. Do you want to do anything else while we’re there? There’s a lot of historical stuff in Philadelphia, right?”

He huffs a laugh next to her. “Yeah, there’s a lot of ‘historical stuff’ in Philadelphia,” he confirms. “But we did a couple of school trips there in high school, so I’ve seen all the important stuff – Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, like, all the museums.”

Clarke can’t help but smile. “Oh, _all_ the museums?”

“Yup, all of them. Every single one.”

He continues to list all the museums he’s been to in Philadelphia in great detail, which takes them all the way to the county line.

When they pass the sign telling them they’re leaving Fauquier County, Bellamy snorts. “Are we seriously staying in Clarke County?”

Clarke frowns, but the sign did say Clarke County, and the sat nav indicates that the inn they’re staying at is only a few minutes away.

“I guess so,” she says. “Honestly, I was just looking for something nice in this general area, I didn’t focus on the county.”

“Of course not. How many Clarke counties have we been to on this trip, huh? I know Vegas is in Clark county…”

“With a different spelling!” she interjects, laughing.

“It still counts,” he insists, scrolling through something on his phone. “There are _twelve_ Clark counties in the US – no E – and five Clarke counties, plus the Lewis & Clarke County in Montana. We’ve only been in this one and the one in Nevada, but we’ve definitely passed another two, maybe three… and not a single Bellamy County.”

“I wonder why.”

The sat nav tells her to take a right then, and a moment later, a left onto a driveway, and they reach their home for the night.

Since they arrive at nine in the evening and leave again by eight thirty the next morning, the place honestly doesn’t make that much of an impression, but their hosts are kind and welcoming, the room a little old fashioned but the large, four poster bed comfortable, and the breakfast definitely amazing.

Clarke can’t help the way her mood dips when she gets in the driver’s seat, and judging by his silence, Bellamy seems to be feeling something similar. Once she’s started the car, he turns the radio on, and they drive in silence, apart from the music and the directions from the sat nav, for a while.

He did a bit more research into the large pencil that was supposed to be in Glen Burnie last night, only to realize that it’s no longer there, so they skip that little detour and head straight for Philadelphia, parking the car in a garage near City Hall a little after noon.

“So, where’s the clothes pin?” she asks when they’ve left the garage and are on the bustling street outside. He looks around for a moment and then grabs her by the shoulders and turns her a quarter of a turn to the right, and there it is, just the top of it peaking up above a few trees. “Oh. Convenient.”

“Fuck, I thought the weather would be better a bit further north,” Bellamy grumbles.

“We’re in a heat wave,” she offers with a shrug. “It’s supposed to be over a hundred and ten in New York tomorrow, that’ll be fun.”

“And people think climate change is some big conspiracy.”

It doesn’t take long to check the large clothes pin out in more detail, but he seems as reluctant to leave as she is once they have.

“It’s a little early for lunch,” he notes, hands in his pockets and eyes somewhere a few inches to the right of her own. “Do you want to maybe just… walk around for a while and then get something to eat? We’re not in any hurry, right?”

“No hurry, no,” Clarke replies, forcing her eyes away from the seven on his forehead. His Number has been drawing her attention for days now, ever since ten ticked down to nine. “Harper said they would make sure there’s some food in the apartment, so we won’t have to go to the store tonight, and I told her I’d let them know our ETA when we were getting close, but I didn’t say when it might be.”

“OK.” He takes her hand, his grip a little tighter than usual. “So one last sightseeing tour?”

She has to swallow down a lump and can’t say anything, but she nods.

So they just wander around for a while – along 15th Street to Love Park, because Clarke loves the statue, then down Market Street past the imposing Masonic Temple and Liberty Bell Center, even if they don’t go inside, through Christ Church Burial Ground and past Betsy Ross House to Elfreth’s Alley. When they get hungry, Bellamy Googles ‘best cheesesteak’ and they discover that number six on the list – at least according to the top site in the results – is only a couple of blocks away.

“I’ve actually just had cheesesteak once before,” Bellamy notes when they’ve gotten their food. “And that was out of some food truck at… Washington Square, I think. So I have no idea if this is as good as they claim it is, but it’s definitely delicious.”

“I can’t say I have that much more experience,” Clarke admits. “And it’s been… a couple of decades since I tried it last, but this is definitely the best I’ve had.”

They stroll around for a bit longer after they’ve eaten, but there isn’t really that much to do unless they want to actually visit a museum or tourist attraction, so by mid-afternoon, they’re making their way back to the car.

“Last leg,” he says with a deep breath, voice a little rough, as he maneuvers them onto the I-95.

She reaches for his hand, not even sure if she’s asking for or offering support. “I can’t believe it.”

She texted Harper a few minutes ago, letting her know they’re about two hours out, and after her phone pings with the response – _Great, we’ll clear out in a little while, let you get settled in peace. There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge, plus stuff for breakfast!_ – silence settles over the car. She can’t be bothered turning the radio on, and Bellamy knows the way, so they don’t need the sat nav. She thinks about a million different things she could bring up, but doesn’t, and catches him opening his mouth now and then, only to close it again and offer her a small smile.

The first actual sound either of them makes is a half-choked sob that tears itself out of Clarke’s throat, that she has no control over, the first time they see Manhattan in the distance.

“Hey, hey, shhh,” he immediately tries to soothe her, thumb rubbing against the back of her hand.

“Sorry,” she offers, trying to swallow down the heaviness in her throat and blinking to keep the tears in. “I always love the first glimpse of the city when I’ve been away, but now it just feels…”

“I know,” he assures her when she trails off.

She scoots closer, so she can lean her head against his shoulder, and he presses a quick kiss to her hair. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, turning her head so she can look up at him. His eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is tense.

“Coming back here,” Bellamy expands. “Especially when I got to see Miller in Vegas, that could be enough. We can just… keep driving. It’s been a while since I was in Boston, that could be fun. Or we could head straight to the airport, find that Caribbean beach…”

She remembers that conversation, of course, back when they started planning the trip. Asking when he wanted to get back to the city, _if_ he did. She honestly hadn’t thought about what it would be like for her to get back to the city at the time, had just wanted to make sure he got whatever he wanted.

“I know you asked because you wanted to know what I wanted,” he continues when she doesn’t say anything, as if he’s reading her mind. “And I know you’re just going to tell me to not worry about you again, but I… New York is your home too, and I never wanted to ruin that for you. I don’t want to leave you with these… bad memories of the city.”

Clarke takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words that won’t make him feel worse. “Do you want to know the truth?” she finally asks and he nods, eyes on the road but attention clearly on her. “I really don’t think it matters at this point. I already have all these memories, moments, even if it was just a couple of months… great memories, happy ones, but still… everything in the apartment, everything in _New York_ … it’s all going to remind me of you. And I know… I know I’ll be grateful for that, at some point, and don’t think for even a second that I regret a single moment of the last eight months, but… honestly? I’ve thought about maybe leaving, for a while, just until I can… until it doesn’t hurt as much, I guess. Just being there.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Why didn’t you say something?”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “We agreed to try to not think about it, remember? Enjoy our trip. I didn’t want to mess that up.”

“You could have still talked to me,” he insists.

“I know. But, to answer your question, no. I don’t want to keep driving or fly somewhere or anything like that, OK? I want to be here, with you.”

Until the end. She doesn’t say it, but it feels like it’s hanging in the air between them.

“OK,” Bellamy agrees, squeezing her hand again. “Love you, Princess.”

“I love you.”

They soon reach her building, and then they’re unloading the car, and riding up in the elevator, and they’re _home_.

When they step through the front door, Clarke lets out a relieved breath, because a calm settles over her, the feeling she always associates with her apartment. She was afraid that it would be gone, that all the anxiety bundled up inside her would take over, but this _is_ still home.

“Good to be home?” Bellamy asks cautiously next to her, and she offers him a genuine smile that makes him relax.

“It is. I was a little worried it wouldn’t be, but… it really is.”

He squeezes her hand tightly for a moment. “Good.”

The moment is broken by a loud meow and Bastet winding around their legs. She reaches down and picks the cat up, and she butts her head against Clarke’s chin.

Bellamy chuckles next to her. “I guess she’s happy to see you.”

“She always is when I’ve been gone for more than a day,” Clarke replies. Bas has apparently had enough cuddling, though, so she puts her down on the floor where she continues to rub up against their legs. “I know some people say that cats don’t care about their owners, not like dogs, and maybe that’s true, but I know she misses me when I’m gone.”

Bastet rises up on her back legs and paws at Bellamy’s chinos, purring loudly, and he leans down to pick her up as well.

“And you too, apparently,” Clarke notes, watching the two of them as Bastet repeats her head butting against Bellamy’s nose and he scratches her behind the ears.

“You missed us, huh?” he mumbles, a half-smile on his face. “Yeah, we missed you too.”

They eventually get past the hallway, dumping their bags in the bedroom. Bellamy insists on getting a first load of laundry going, and Clarke leaves him to it to check the mail Harper or Monty have left piled on the kitchen counter. She has all her bills on direct debit, so it’s basically personalized marketing and six months’ worth of newsletters from the library. Definitely nothing pressing.

“We’re not being social tonight, right?” Bellamy asks when he comes into the living room a little later, and she looks up from the last newsletter.

He’s changed into a new t-shirt and a pair of cut off sweatpants, and looks soft and inviting.

“We don’t have to be social at all, if you don’t want to,” she replies. “I mean, you said you wanted to do a dinner or something with everyone, but Raven offered to have that at her place, so we don’t get stuck with cleaning up after.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he says, leaning against the counter across from her. “I was thinking maybe doing some sort of… buffet of stuff from the trip, a bit more casual than a sit-down dinner.”

Clarke reaches over the counter to take his hand. “Sounds good. I’m sure Raven will be happy to help with the cooking, too.”

“What, you’re not even offering?”

The half-smirk and glint in his eyes tells her he’s teasing her, and she punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Shut up!”

He chuckles and squeezes her hand before straightening up. “Just kidding – I don’t want to burn Raven’s kitchen down. Couch?”

She nods and goes to change into something more comfortable herself before joining him on the couch. The AC is on, so they can even curl under a blanket, even though it feels strange with the blazing sun outside. Bastet joins them after a few minutes, stretching out over both their laps and purring up a storm.

Bellamy turns on some costume drama on Netflix and complains about all the historical inaccuracies under his breath, and Clarke does manage to forget everything else and just be in the moment. They heat up the food Harper and Monty left when they get hungry, and even find a half-full bag of cheese doodles in the pantry.

When darkness has fallen outside, Bastet perks up and abandons them to watch whatever interesting thing is happening outside her favorite window.

They watch another episode of the show – Clarke can admit that she hasn’t been paying much attention, she’s mostly been listening to Bellamy grumbling – but when that one ends, he straightens up and stretches. “Bed?”

She untangles the blanket from around them and swings one leg over his, leaning down to kiss him for a long moment before pulling away. “Bed.”

-100-

When Clarke wakes up the morning after they get back to New York, she’s alone in bed, and for one horrible moment, she’s convinced that it’s already happened. He’s gone.

Then laughter floats through the crack in the door, and when she pads into the living room, she finds Bellamy by one of the windows facing the river, holding up his phone like he’s showing it the view.

_“Is that Brooklyn Bridge?”_ she hears from the phone and realizes he must be Skyping.

“No, it’s Manhattan Bridge,” Bellamy explains, turning away from the window and spotting Clarke. He gives her a big smile. “Morning.”

He looks so happy, she can’t help but return the smile. “Morning.” She takes a few steps closer and waves at the screen, which is now facing her. “Hi Rosamie.”

The smile on Rosamie’s face widens. _“Hello Clarke, how are you? It must be nice to be home?”_

“It is, yeah,” she confirms. “Not that we don’t miss you guys.”

_“Yes, yes, we all miss you too. I was saying to Bellamy, maybe you could come visit in the winter? I know it is cold in New York, but here it will be nice and warm.”_ Her eyes narrow a little but she’s still smiling. _“And we want to celebrate your wedding with you, of course.”_

Bellamy winces a little behind the phone and Clarke has to fight to keep the smile on her face. “That sounds really nice, we’ll see if we can make it happen.”

_“Good.”_

Bellamy turns the phone back to face himself. “Come on, you can see Brooklyn Bridge from the bedroom, let me show you.”

Clarke squeezes his hand. “I’ll start on breakfast.”

He offers her a smile before leaving the room, and she hears Rosamie chatter all the way into the bedroom.

She’s just spooning up scrambled eggs onto two plates when he comes back into the room, dropping his phone on the counter before rounding it and coming up behind her to wrap his arms around her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ambush you with her like that,” he apologizes, unnecessarily. “She just started talking about us visiting and I couldn’t very well tell her that we couldn’t, so I just tried to keep it vague, you know, can’t promise anything, we both have work, I’m going back to school…”

She puts the empty frying pan down and leans back against him. “I know, you don’t have to apologize. She’s just… she’s happy she finally got you back, she just wants to… to make sure she gets to see you again.” She can hear her voice shaking by the end of the sentence, and his arms tighten around her, holding her together as she takes a few deep breaths and gets herself under control. “Sorry.”

“Stop.”

She has to laugh at that. “Yeah, let’s both stop apologizing and eat breakfast.

“Deal.”

They get some toast going as well before settling down at the counter, Bellamy pouring them both some coffee.

“So do we have anything planned today?” he asks when he’s taken a large gulp.

“No, nothing,” Clarke replies after swallowing down a mouthful of eggs. “I wasn’t actually sure if you wanted me to keep us busy once we got back or not.”

He freezes with a fork-full of eggs halfway to his mouth, obviously trying to figure out what she’s talking about. “Oh, you mean what we talked about in… was it Mexico?”

“I think so, yeah. But if you _do_ want me to come up with things for us to do, just say the word.”

He pops the eggs in his mouth and chews in silence for a moment, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Honestly?” he then starts. “Now that we’re back, I think it’ll be nice to just be, for a while.”

Clarke nods. “Yeah, that does sound good, especially with this heat. I do have one thing booked tomorrow, but it should only be an hour or two in the afternoon. And we’re driving up to Bellport one day, but we can still just hang out and relax too.”

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Bellamy asks, going for casual but sounding just a little too curious.

She hides her smile in her coffee. “You’ll find out tomorrow.”


	60. I Can Feel the Wind Is Changing, Changing Faster Than Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another family reunion! For obvious reasons, I have no idea how interconnected the different US states are when it comes to deaths and such, maybe Aurora’s parents would be notified when she died even though they were in another state and had no contact, but let’s just pretend for the story…
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Roads” by the Swedish duo Vargas & Lagola, which you should definitely check out! They also had a great song on Avicii’s album that was released earlier this year, along with Swedish singer Agnes, called “Tough Love”. OK, I’m done promoting Swedish music (for now)
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

Clarke’s mind seems to settle into some sort of melancholy, probably a defense mechanism – she can’t spend the next week with a permanent lump in her throat, after all, constantly close to tears. It’s just not mentally possible.

She’s able to enjoy herself, even, treasure the moments, the quiet ones when they’re just lounging on the couch, watching something on TV, Bas curled up on Bellamy’s chest, the heated ones when he pushes her up against a wall or the kitchen counter, into the mattress or the couch, hard inside her, mouth and hands driving her crazy, and all the other little moments in between.

Raven and Zeke show up with take-out on Sunday evening, and they hang out for a couple of hours, eating and talking. Raven and Bellamy put together a menu for the get together on Friday, writing down the recipes they’ll be making, and Raven promises to go shopping and get everything they need.

It’s nice, really. Clarke has missed her friends while they’ve been away, especially Raven, but she still finds herself getting a little antsy when Bellamy turns on a movie and everyone settles in on the couch, and they _show no signs of leaving_.

Raven, of course, picks up on it after a little while, and fakes a huge yawn. “I think it’s time to call it a night, babe,” she tells Zeke, who looks genuinely confused for a moment before he apparently catches on.

Clarke’s expecting Bellamy to tell them it’s not that late, or to offer to drive them home, or something, but he just sees them to the door with her and, once it’s closed behind them, throws her over his shoulder and takes her to bed.

He seems to want to squeeze as much sex – no pun intended – as possible into the time they have left, without actually spending twenty-four hours a day in bed, and it’s not like she’s complaining.

On Monday, she drives them through Manhattan and up to Yonkers, wanting to maintain the surprise as long as she can, and watches Bellamy’s face carefully when they’ve parked outside the iFly building.

“I know you said you weren’t an adrenaline junkie and haven’t dreamt about skydiving or anything,” she says when she’s killed the engine and he still hasn’t said anything. “But honestly, I’ve been wanting to try this for ages, and… I want to do it with you. Unless you’re secretly scared of heights or something, but you were fine at the Grand Canyon, which even I thought was pretty scary when there wasn’t a fence, and this isn’t even that high…”

He finally puts her out of her misery by starting to laugh. “Relax,” he says. “I’ve read about this, it sounds really fun.”

And it is. They get thorough instructions on how to behave in the tank, what to expect, how to signal if they want to get out, but then they finally get to put on the flight suits and then she’s _flying_. The feeling of weightlessness is like nothing she’s ever experienced before, and she feels light even after she touches down and goes to watch Bellamy’s turn from the other side of the glass.

She can see the same feelings she was experiencing herself on his face as he tumbles around, seemingly in the open air, and the joy and elation stays with both of them.

It’s a good afternoon.

“I’m taking a shower,” Clarke announces when they get home. “Flying is surprisingly sweaty.”

He just hums to confirm that he heard her, and she heads into the bedroom and then the bathroom, dropping her clothes in the hamper on the way.

She’s just stepped under the spray of the water, though, when she hears the bathroom door open and close.

“Mind if I join you?”

When she turns, he’s already naked, and she raises an eyebrow. “Not even waiting for an answer?”

She turns the water pressure down a little and he slides the glass door open, stepping into the already steamy shower.

“Were you going to say no?” Bellamy retorts drily, matching her expression.

“Shut up,” she tells him, turning the water back up and pulling him down to her.

“Great comeback.”

She nips at his bottom lip in retaliation and he groans, arms going around her to pull her flush against him and mouth opening to deepen the kiss.

Clarke loves the way she can get lost in him, just let everything else – all worries, all anxiety, all negative thoughts – drift away and focus on the feel of his lips against hers, his hands on her hips, fingers digging into her skin, his body all pressed up against hers, the evidence of his arousal hot and hard against her stomach.

“You know…” he starts after an indeterminable amount of time, breaking the kiss to instead explore her throat and shoulders with his mouth. He pushes her up against the wall and she hisses a little, mostly at the way the cold tile feels against her back but also because he slides a finger inside her. “I kind of have this fantasy of fucking you here in the shower. I really want to try out that shower head…”

It’s not like she got the detachable shower head with seven different spray options _just_ because it provides seriously mind-blowing orgasms – she got used to being able to wash her hair without getting a crick in her neck when she lived in Europe – but it was definitely a huge bonus.

“I can confirm that it’s fucking amazing,” she says, biting back a moan when Bellamy adds another finger and leans down to swirl his tongue around her nipple.

“It’s a shame you’re so against shower sex,” he continues after a moment, and Clarke has to seriously focus to remember that they’re apparently having a conversation.

“I’m against someone slipping and breaking their neck during shower sex,” she corrects him, pretty proud that she can form coherent sentences when he’s clearly trying to distract her.

“These tiles aren’t even slippery,” he objects, and she knows he’s right.

“Do you want to be another statistic?” she asks, pushing against his chest a little to get him to look at her.

He does, though he’s still fucking her with his fingers, so she has some trouble focusing.

“Of course not. But seriously, how often does that happen?”

“I don’t know, I’ve only seen it once.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen a little at her words. “Seriously?”

“Well, I didn’t actually _see_ , but I had a Transfer with a broken neck, and the next day, Raven told me that’s what happened.”

“Huh.” He frowns for a moment before his expression clears and he leans down to kiss her again. “How about if everyone keeps both feet firmly on the floor? Less chance of slipping. And you have those built-in shelves in the wall, those would work fine as handholds.”

He curls his fingers as he speaks, and Clarke feels the first signs of her orgasm at the edge of her senses.

“How about you get me off with the shower head here and then we have sex in bed?” she counters, pushing against his fingers.

“That’s the best I’m going to get, huh?” he asks, sucking a bruise into the skin just above her left nipple.

“Mm-hm.”

Bellamy sighs, like it’s some great let-down, but then he steps back, pulling his fingers out of her, and she can’t help a whimper. “Turn around,” he tells her, and she does, hands finding the shelves he mentioned earlier. They actually are pretty good to hold onto.

She hears him detach the shower head and turning it to find a setting he likes before stepping up close behind her. He doesn’t just go for it, though, instead nuzzling her throat and squeezing her breast before trailing lower and sliding just one finger back inside her.

“Please…” she pleads, her hips jerking against him because the anticipation is almost too much. “I’m so close, I need…”

“Yeah?” he murmurs in her ear, moving even closer to her, his dick sliding between their wet bodies with ease. “Well, I don’t want to leave you hanging…”

The first touch of the hard spray against her clit is like a sharp burst of electricity shooting through Clarke’s entire body, but it doesn’t quite push her over the edge. He moves it away again and she whines, which makes him chuckle, but he does add another finger and, a moment later, moves the shower head back where she wants it.

This time, he keeps it in place, and a moment later, she flies over the edge and into oblivion, a loud moan escaping her throat.

Bellamy doesn’t let up the pressure, though, like she does herself when she uses the shower head, and before she can even catch her breath, the pressure is building again and she comes for a second time, gasping out his name.

“Good?” he whispers in her ear when he finally moves the shower head away and she can only nod.

He’s not done, though, two fingers still sliding in and out of her at a slower pace, his mouth trailing along her shoulders, neck, down her spine a few inches and back up. He somehow manages to get the shower head back in the holder and then his free hand closes around her breast, squeezing lightly. She can still feel him hard against her back, and he’s moving his hips in time with his fingers, though she can’t imagine it offers him much in way of friction.

When he adds a third finger and lets his thumb ghost over her still sensitive clit, making her whole body twitch, Clarke groans, because it’s just _not enough_.

“Fuck, this was your plan all along, huh?”

He bites her shoulder lightly. “What was?”

“Get me off so much my brain stopped working and I’d forget about the slipping and breaking your neck because I want you inside me so much.”

“Huh,” he says lightly, the hand that was working her breast moving around so he can line up his dick and thrust between her legs. “That’s actually not a bad plan. Is it working?”

She arches against him and spreads her legs a little, to give him better access. “I haven’t forgotten about it,” she feels the need to clarify. “You’re good but you’re not that good.”

Bellamy chuckles against her throat and shifts so he’s positioned right at her entrance. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Then he’s pushing inside her and, OK, her mind does go blank for a moment or two.

“OK?” he asks, voice rough in her ear, and she nods frantically.

He starts moving then, slow but deep thrusts, making intense pleasure shoot through her every single time. Clarke gives up on staying quiet after a minute or two – it’s not like anyone can hear them anyway – and lets out the moans and gasps and cries when the sensations get to be too much.

When he speeds up a little and his hand tightens against her hip, she fumbles for the shower head herself and gets it to the right setting again, and she falls apart a second before he stills inside her, head falling to her shoulder.

“Fuck, that was…” she starts when they’ve both caught their breaths.

Bellamy chuckles behind her and takes a step back, pulling out of her. “See, I told you shower sex was amazing.”

-100-

On Tuesday, they head out of the city, taking the Belt Parkway east towards the Hamptons. The heat wave seems to be over for now, the sky is overcast, the thermometer shows seventy-four degrees, and the rain seems to be hanging in the air, but it is still late July and traffic is, of course, horrible. They got an early start, but it’s still almost noon by the time they pull into the driveway to what the sat nav tells them is Richard and Linda Blake’s house. There’s another house next to it, so it’s not technically waterfront, but Patchogue Bay is glittering just a handful of yards further along.

Clarke’s driving, and she parks outside the two car garage attached to the main house, turning the engine off.

“You OK?” she asks, turning to Bellamy in the passenger seat.

He seems calm, none of the nerves from when they were meeting his paternal grandparents in the Philippines, and he even smiles at her question.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Not that I want you to be nervous or anything, but how come?”

He thinks the question through for a moment. “I guess… my dad’s family, Mom didn’t talk much about them. When I asked, she’d just say that they were in the Philippines and they never came to the US, but that was… we didn’t have much, growing up, so I guess I just figured it was because they couldn’t afford it. It’s not like we could have just taken a trip to them either, so… It wasn’t until I got older and started learning more about the country and the culture that I even started thinking about what my dad’s parents must have thought about his relationship with my mom, about me, worrying about them not wanting anything to do with their dead son’s illegitimate kid…”

“I remember,” she interjects.

“But my mom’s parents…” Bellamy continues like she didn’t say anything. “Mom passed her own relationship with them onto me, I guess. She never lied to me when I asked about my dad or other family, which maybe she should have considering I was… I must have been four when I started. I don’t know if I’ve told you, but I met Miller the day after we moved to Paterson and we became friends immediately, the way kids do, and he has the most traditional family ever, basically. His parents were still married, of course, and he always had both sets of grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins, all that around for birthdays and holidays, so I figured out pretty quickly that my own family wasn’t the standard configuration.

It started with my dad, I still remember the conversation – she was doing the dishes and when I asked why I didn’t have a dad like Miller did, she just told me he was dead. No sugar coating, nothing like that, he was just dead and was never coming back, and there was no point in crying about it. So it was just a part of life, I guess.

It wasn’t that long after that when I asked about my grandparents, after the first Christmas we spent in Paterson. Mom had to work, and she’d gotten to know Miller’s parents by then, so I had a sleepover at their place – I think they probably felt a little sorry for her, being on her own with a kid in a new town, no family around to help, having to work all the time, so I was already spending a lot of time with them. Then when she picked me up, I just started asking why I didn’t have any grandparents or aunts and uncles, because Miller had so many and it wasn’t fair that I didn’t have any, they gave him all these Christmas presents and why wasn’t I getting any… when we got home, she basically sat me down and told me that a lot of people in the world aren’t very nice, and the sooner I learned that the better, and that her parents were conservative snobs who didn’t approve of her behavior so they kicked her out.

Looking back, that was five months or so before Octavia was born, so I’m guessing at least part of her speech was anger or maybe betrayal due to that whole situation – I’m pretty sure it was the reason we left Detroit in the first place too… But that stuck with me, you know? So I spent a long time not caring about them, not wanting to see them, and now… I don’t know. It’s not like we’re going to form some lifelong bond, make up for thirty-one years of lost time, no matter what happens, you know, so I’m just kind of… not indifferent, I am glad I get a chance to at least see them, but… whatever happens happens. If they take one look at me and slam the door in my face, I at least tried.”

“That’s very zen of you,” Clarke notes, intentionally skipping over the part about lifelong bonds.

He shrugs. “I guess. So come on, let’s get this over with.”

Some nerves do seem to set in when they’re standing in front of the door, though, and she’s the one to reach out and ring the doorbell.

They’re immediately greeted by two sets of barking – one deep and booming, and one yapping that makes her think of little toy dogs carried around in purses.

The woman that opens the door a moment later looks like she could come straight out of an advertisement for the golf club she’s apparently a member of – chestnut brown hair in a perfect, shoulder length bob (considering her age, Clarke suspects it must be died, but if so, it’s definitely well done), a light blue cotton shirt tucked into beige chinos, a simple (but probably expensive) pearl necklace around her throat. There’s a Pomeranian tucked under her arm, and a golden retriever peering up at the strangers and wagging its tail at her side.

“Can I help you?” she asks with a polite but bland smile.

Clarke glances at Bellamy, but he doesn’t seem to be about to say anything, so she takes the lead again.

“Mrs. Blake? Linda Blake?” she asks.

The woman frowns a little. “Yes, that’s me. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Clarke offers a smile. “No, I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name is Clarke Griffin, and this is my husband, Bellamy… Blake.”

Linda’s attention snaps from Clarke to Bellamy, and her hand flies to her mouth. The little dog yips indignantly, as if annoyed its mistress is upset.

Bellamy has found his voice again and raises his hand in a sort of wave. “Hi.”

The sound snaps Linda out of her shock and she takes a step back, putting the dog down on the floor before half-turning to call over her shoulder. “Richard!”

The Pomeranian takes the opportunity to examine the newcomers, and they both crouch down to let it sniff them. When it’s happy, it yips again and starts wagging its tail.

Linda turns back to them, even though there hasn’t been any response from Richard. “Come on, Coco, inside,” she tells the dog, and it huffs but does turn and patters past her. “I’m so sorry, you caught me completely off guard and I’m being terribly rude. Come in, come in.”

They step through the door so she can close it behind them, and the golden comes up to say hello as well, sniffing both of their outstretched hands before licking Bellamy’s once, making him laugh.

“He’s a sweetheart,” Linda assures them, her eyes intent on Bellamy and not the dog for a moment, before she takes a few steps over towards the curved staircase that leads up to the second floor. “Richard!” she calls again, a little louder, and this time there’s a response.

“Yes, coming!”

She turns back to them with a smile. “That means we’ll probably see him within half an hour.” She pats her leg and the golden obediently goes to her. “Come on, Duke, let’s take our guests somewhere a little more comfortable, shall we?”

The dog trots off and Linda smiles at them, nodding in the same direction before following. Clarke looks up at Bellamy and mouths ‘OK?’ and he nods, but does reach for her hand as they follow Linda through the house.

‘Somewhere a little more comfortable’ turns out to be a large but comfortably furnished living room just off the foyer. The entire left wall is glass sliding doors, with a view of the garden with a patio and large pool. While they drove, the skies cleared, and it looks very inviting in the sunlight.

Linda seems a little lost, standing in the middle of the room, but then both dogs go to lie down in what are obviously their beds on either side of an open fireplace, and she gestures at the couch. “Please, have a seat.”

Clarke pulls Bellamy down next to her, keeping her grip on his hand, and Linda takes an armchair herself.

“I am sorry we just… showed up like this,” Clarke apologizes. “We should have called first.”

She had considered it but decided against it in the end, worried that they would just turn him away without even seeing him.

“Oh, no,” Linda tells her, shaking her head. “I’m glad you did. Honestly, if you had called, it would have just given me time to stress myself out worrying. This is better.” She turns to Bellamy, eyes wide and searching. “I am so sorry.”

He lets out what sounds like an unexpected laugh. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for.”

“Everything, I suppose.” Her mouth turns up in a familiar half-smile, full of contrition. “I don’t know what your mother’s told you about us, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

He takes a breath and Clarke can tell from the way his eyebrows knit together briefly that he’s trying to figure out what to say. Linda does seem genuinely sorry, and she’s sure he doesn’t want to give her too hard a time. “She honestly didn’t talk that much about you,” he finally says. “Only when I asked, and then she just told me that you… had some differences of opinion and that you kicked her out when she was seventeen.”

Linda nods thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s what it must have felt like for her at the time. I’m not trying to… downplay her feelings, please don’t think that, but to me, it was just another one of our fights.” She sighs. “Maybe it was worse than our other fights, and I did say some things I didn’t mean in the heat of the moment…”

“Like telling her to not come back if she left?” Bellamy interjects gently.

She sighs. “I didn’t even think about it at the time, it wasn’t… I didn’t _mean_ it, I thought she knew that. But then she didn’t come home… Aurora and I were more similar than either of us realized at the time, I think, we argued a lot. And Richard… he grew up very strict, so it was the only way he knew how to be a parent, and I’ll admit that I didn’t… it was easier to let him handle rules and curfews and punishments, so I did. I know we were hard on her, but we just… we wanted what was best for her – good grades, a good college, a degree… she didn’t agree and, well…”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” Bellamy says with a smile.

“Oh, you two have…” Her eyes dart between them and a small frown appears on her face. “Well, you’re too young to have teenagers of your own.”

“Oh, no, I meant my sister, Octavia,” he corrects her. “She’s five years younger than I am, and let me tell you, she was a handful in her teens.”

Linda’s eyes light up. “You have siblings?”

“Just her.” He pulls his phone out to find a photo of the two of them with Octavia and Lincoln from Dublin and hands the phone to Linda. “That’s her and her boyfriend, they live in Ireland.”

“Oh.” Linda stares at the photo for a moment, her free hand hovering just above the screen, as if she wants to touch it. “She looks so much like Aurora.”

Bellamy nods. “I know.”

She hands the phone back and wipes surreptitiously at her eyes. “So, your sister acted up when she was younger? How did Aurora handle that?”

Clarke glances up at him to see his face fall at the question, because Linda doesn’t know. She knows he thought that social services might have notified them when Aurora died, but obviously not. He opens his mouth to reply, but just then there are footsteps on the stairs and a moment later, an older man appears at Linda’s side.

“You could have told me we had guests,” he says with a smile, holding his hand out. “Richard.”

Bellamy stands to shake his hand. “Bellamy.”

“Our grandson,” Linda pipes in, and Richard actually stumbles, taking a step forward. Bellamy quickly reaches out to steady him.

“Are you OK?”

Richard nods but still looks a little dazed, so Bellamy keeps his hold on his arm.

“I can’t believe it,” Richard says after a moment, shaking his head. “I never thought…”

“Come here, sit down,” Linda tells him, and Clarke sees that she’s pulled up another chair next to hers.

Richard does as he’s told and Bellamy sits back down, reclaiming Clarke’s hand, which seems to remind him of her presence. “This is my wife, Clarke,” he introduces her to Richard, who offers her a weak smile.

“Nice to meet you, Clarke.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Linda pats Richard on the knee. “I was just asking Bellamy how Aurora handled teenage rebellion,” she tells him. “He has a little sister… Octavia, yes?”

Bellamy nods. “Octavia, yeah, but…” He glances at Clarke and she squeezes his hand in what she hopes is a supportive way. “I was the one who had to deal with her teenage rebellion. Mom, she… she died. When I was eighteen, Octavia was thirteen.”

The room is completely quiet for a long moment, Linda and Richard staring at him as if waiting for him to tell them he’s joking. Then Linda lets out a half-choked sound and Coco, who has been dozing by the fire, immediately bounds over and paws at her leg until she lifts the dog into her lap. Richard wraps an arm around her shoulders and she leans against him, tears rolling silently down her face.

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy offers after a moment and Richard shakes his head, reaching out to grasp his arm.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says determinedly. “We always… well, _I_ always hoped that one day she would… not come back, but reach out, at least. I understand why she didn’t, but… it’s been over thirty years of not knowing. In a way, it’s… not a relief, but…”

“It’s been hard,” Linda takes over, voice shaking slightly. “To worry without being able to do anything. We tried to keep track of her, in the beginning, but… it wasn’t as easy, back then. You couldn’t just… go on the internet and find someone. Richard had connections in Illinois, friends who could help, and we were able to look out for her from afar for a while, but when she left the state…”

“We lost her,” Richard finishes. “We tried, now and then. Put out feelers, but we never…”

“We should have tried harder,” Linda says, sniffling. “She was our little girl and we just… we gave up on her.”

The grief and guilt in her voice is evident, and Clarke’s heart aches for her. She wants to say something, but she knows it’s not her place.

“Don’t blame yourselves,” Bellamy says. “I know Mom was… she was angry, and I get that, but she could have tried to see things from your perspective too, especially once she had me and Octavia and knew how hard it was to actually raise kids. But she knew where you were, she could have reached out too, and she didn’t. That’s on her.”

Linda offers him a small smile. “Thank you for finding us. If we had known about you and your sister, we would have tried too, but we didn’t.”

Bellamy nods. “I get that. I did think, back when Mom died, that maybe social services got in touch with you, but…”

“No,” Richard says, shaking his head. “We would have been there in a heartbeat if they did.”

“You said you were the one to take care of Octavia, does that mean your dad…” Linda starts, trailing off without finishing the question.

“My dad died when I was a couple of months old,” Bellamy tells her. “And Octavia’s dad, he was never around. It was just us and Mom.”

Linda shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, that must have been so hard on you. I wish we could have been there.”

He leans over to take both of her hands in his. “So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content, references to death


	61. The Long Neon Nights and the Want of the Ocean and the Fire That Is Starting to Go Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so we’ve reached the beginning of the end, I guess. I’ll admit that I did tear up, reading through the chapter a final time before posting so, you know, just a heads up that there will be a lot of feelings from here on out… A final night with friends, basically, with a couple of surprises thrown in
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “New York” by Snow Patrol

They stay in Bellport a little too late, probably. After the initial emotional meeting, Linda insists on making them lunch and hearing everything about Bellamy and Octavia’s childhood. After they eat, the dogs need to be walked, so all four of them stroll around the neighborhood for half an hour, until both Duke and Coco have gone about their business.

When they get back to the house, Bellamy sort of half-heartedly suggests that maybe they should get going, that Richard and Linda probably have plans, but Linda assures them that the only thing they were planning was to play a round of golf at the club, and they can do that any time.

So they return to the living room, where Linda produces some photo albums and returns the favor, telling Bellamy about Aurora as a girl and a teenager, before the final, horrible fight that made her leave.

Richard pipes in now and then with a story of his own, but he mostly stays quiet, watching his wife and grandson with a smile on his face and Clarke, in turn, watches him.

She can see the stern father he must have been to Aurora, but she can also see the indulgent grandfather he would have been to Bellamy and Octavia, given the chance.

She hopes Octavia will be as understanding as Bellamy, when he talks to her. The Blakes deserve to have one grandchild to spoil in their old age, and they’re obviously hoping to get that.

After they talk about Aurora, the conversation turns to Clarke and Bellamy’s recent trip. It turns out Richard did a bit of traveling for work, and Linda accompanied him when she could, so they’ve both been to some of the places, even if it was years ago, and they’re eager to compare impressions and hear about the places they haven’t visited themselves.

Then it’s dinner time, and Linda insists they can’t drive all the way back to New York on empty stomachs, so they end up eating grilled salmon out on the patio, with the setting sun reflecting off the water in the distance.

“It’s a beautiful place you have,” Clarke notes. “Can I ask why you decided to leave Chicago for upstate New York?”

Linda is spooning up vegetables on Bellamy’s plate – she’s definitely slipped right into overprotective grandmother mode – and puts the dish down before turning to Clarke.

“I grew up on Martha’s Vineyard,” she explains. “That’s where Richard and I met, actually, way back in 1965 when he was on holiday with some friends. We did live close to the lake in Chicago, but it wasn’t the same, and I always missed the sea. So when I finally convinced Richard to retire and sell the company, I also talked him into moving here.”

“And we haven’t regretted it,” Richard adds from across the table.

“The winters can be a little harsh,” she goes on. “Though it would probably be worse without the islands off the coast offering a little protection from the winds. And the summers more than make up for it.”

Once the food is gone and the sun has set, it’s Linda who reluctantly brings up that they should probably get going.

“You do have a bit of a drive back to the city,” she says, frowning. “I would offer you the guest room but we’re actually leaving early in the morning, visiting my sister up on the Vineyard for a couple of weeks. You were actually lucky to catch us at home – we got back from Chicago only on Sunday, we stayed with Richard’s brother for two weeks, and tomorrow we’re off again.”

“Good timing then,” Bellamy concludes.

“We’ll be back on August eleventh,” Linda tells them when she and Richard are walking them to the car. “I don’t know when you’re both going back to work, but we’d be more than happy to have you stay for a week, or just a weekend, if that’s all the time you can spare.”

He smiles, though Clarke can tell it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and squeezes Linda’s hand. “A week might be tricky, but a weekend would be nice. We can make plans when you’re back home again.”

Linda nods. “That sounds good.” She hesitates, taking half a step forward, and it’s clear even to Clarke that she’s hoping for a hug. Luckily, Bellamy picks up on it too and moves in and wraps his arms around her. “I’m so glad we got to meet you,” Clarke hears her mumble.

“Me too,” he replies before letting her go and offering his hand to Richard, who shakes and does one of those man-half-hugs.

“Drive safe,” he tells them, and then they’re getting in the car.

“OK?” Clarke asks when they’ve driven for a while.

Bellamy glances at her before focusing on the road again. “Yeah, that went much better than I expected.”

“Good.”

They drive in silence for a while, before he speaks again. “I do kind of wish that I had reached out sooner, you know? Maybe even back when Mom died. But then… who would I be today if I had? What would my life be like? Maybe they would have taken O and I would have gone to college and maybe grad school and have a completely different job now and… I could have been on the other side of the country, I might never have met you.”

The thought makes Clarke’s stomach churn uncomfortably and she reaches for his hand, to assure herself he’s there. At least for a little longer.

“I know what you mean,” she says. “The butterfly effect.”

He hums. “But I am really glad I got to see them, at least this once.”

“Me too.”

-100-

Clarke wouldn’t have minded spending the next few days cooped up at home with just Bellamy, but they can’t have sex for seventy-two hours straight anyway. The temperature has risen a little again, but it’s still on more normal summer levels, so they spend a couple of hours a day exploring different parts of the city.

On Wednesday afternoon, they take the tram over to Roosevelt Island and stroll around, checking out the ruins of the old smallpox hospital, the Octagon, and the Lighthouse.

“I can’t believe I’ve never actually been here before,” Bellamy says on the way back to Manhattan. “I mean, not that I’ve done a lot of sightseeing in the city, but still. There’s so much history here.”

Clarke just hums and leans her head against his shoulder.

They go to Cheryl’s for brunch on Thursday, as a kind of throwback to their first sort of official date – Bellamy insists that a throwback has to go further back than eight months, but Clarke doesn’t care – and then lounge on a shaded bench in John Street Park for a while, Clarke sketching and Bellamy playing on his phone. In the evening, they head uptown to Top of the Rock to continue their tradition of watching the sunset.

They’ve both been here before, so they just head straight up to the observation deck to find a good spot for the show.

“One more to go,” Bellamy notes quietly when the last of the sunrays have disappeared behind the horizon. The sky is still painted in beautiful shades of pink and purple, though, and it won’t be dark for a while. “We’ll be able to see the sunset from Raven and Zeke’s place tomorrow, right?”

Clarke leans back against him and closes her eyes against the way his words make a cold weight settle in her stomach. “Yeah, they have great sunset views.”

His arms tighten around her and he kisses her temple. “Good.”

They Skype Rosamie and Danilo on Friday morning again, and Clarke can tell how hard it is on Bellamy, how he has to fight to stay relaxed. The call goes on longer than usual, since he’s normally the one to wrap things up, but eventually, Rosamie reluctantly says that it’s getting late.

It’s after eleven, much later than they normally talk, and with a couple of final ‘I love yous’ – which is how they always end their talks these days, so it’s not even odd – they hang up.

Bellamy slumps back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut, and Clarke wraps her arms around him in silent support.

“I know I’ve already kind of asked this, but you’ll keep an eye on them, right?” he asks after a long moment. “Not just O, but Rosamie and Danilo and everyone over there, and Miller, and Richard and Linda too? Basically all the people I care about. Not… just make sure they’re doing OK?”

She tightens her grip on him and presses her face against his chest, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Of course. For as long as I can, and even after that, I’ll be like a… fairy godmother or something, watching from afar.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. They’re going to start asking questions eventually, especially O and Miller…”

“I’ll handle it.”

They sit in silence for a little longer, just breathing in synch.

“You could tell them,” Bellamy says then. “I didn’t want to do it because I didn’t want to ruin the time we had together, but if you… when you think they’re… not over it, obviously, but in a good enough place, you could tell them. Or if you think they would feel better hearing it. That I knew what was happening and… fuck, not that I _wanted_ to die, that’s the last thing I want and I don’t want them to think that, but that I… had accepted it, I guess?”

Clarke pulls away to be able to look at him.

“Have you?”

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

“Hell if I know. I know there’s nothing I can do, but if I had my way, I’d just stay with you, here on this couch, forever.”

“Me too.” She pauses. “I’ll tell them if I think I need to, OK?”

“OK.”

His phone starts ringing then, signaling the day’s second Skype call. Clarke says hi to Octavia and then gives them some privacy. She doesn’t want to go too far, though, in case Bellamy needs support, so she just moves to the dining table and busies herself with checking her emails.

She’s been doing it more and more lately, almost compulsively, opening the app up five, ten times a day, hoping for an email she’s pretty sure by now isn’t coming.

Clarke has mentored a couple of Soul Keepers over the years, but none since the mid-nineties, back before email became a standard for them. Those times, she got a letter in the mail a couple of months in advance, requesting her aide with a new Keeper, and sent her affirmative response back to the PO box they always used when two-way correspondence was needed.

Today, she’s assuming these assignments arrive via email, like everything else, but just like every other time she’s checked since May, there’s nothing in her inbox. No message asking her to handle the mentoring of a new Soul Keeper.

She’s been trying very hard to _not_ let herself hope that it’ll happen, because she knows the odds must be astronomically low, but it’s still another blow.

She closes down the app again and focuses on Bellamy and Octavia’s conversation, which is on their grandparents and seems to be going about as well as he had been hoping – Octavia is suspicious, but when Clarke backs him up and says that both Richard and Linda appeared genuine and really seemed to want to get to know their grandkids, she relents.

_“Fine, I’ll talk to them if you want me to,”_ she says with an eye-roll. _“But I’ve used up all my vacation days for this year, so I can’t just fly out there to meet them.”_

Clarke winces at that, knowing that Octavia will be making that trip sooner than she thinks.

“That’s all I ask, O.”

They continue talking for a while, until Octavia has to leave for her evening class at the gym, and say their usual goodbyes – “Love you, O”, “Love you too, weirdo”.

As soon as Bellamy’s hung up the phone, Clarke is back on the couch, wrapping herself around him as much as he can. “OK?”

“No.”

“Sorry, stupid question.”

He doesn’t respond, just clings to her as tightly as she’s clinging to him.

“She’s going to be so angry,” he says quietly after a long moment. “She was when Mom died.”

“She was thirteen,” Clarke reminds him.

“No, I know. I just… I want you to be prepared, just in case. Don’t let her blame you, or push you away, or Lincoln, tell him he has to… he has to take care of her, OK? She’s not going to say it, but she’ll need him.”

She finally gives up on keeping her tears at bay and just lets them fall. “I’ll tell him, promise.”

Bastet jumps up on the couch and meows at them, trying to get into Bellamy’s lap. She’s been extremely affectionate towards him since they got back, almost like she senses what’s coming. Clarke slides off him and onto the couch next to him instead, and the cat happily turns in a circle twice before settling into a purring ball.

She could reach for the remote, turn on the TV to something, but she doesn’t, instead just snuggles in closer, Bellamy’s arm coming around her to hold her tight.

When the cat wakes up half an hour or so later and goes off in search of food or the best sun soaking spot or something, she looks up at him. He looks about as tired and wrung out as she feels. “Want to just head over to Raven and Zeke’s already?” she asks. “I’m pretty sure neither of us are going to be much use if we stay here, she’ll keep us busy.”

Their Filipino dinner is set for six and it’s not quite one yet, but there is a lot of cooking to be done.

Bellamy runs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, we might as well.”

“Car or subway?”

“Subway?” He gives her a smile. “I thought maybe we could walk home later, you know, like we did on Halloween? Sort of a literal walk down memory lane.”

She smiles too at the memory, the perfect night up until she saw his Number… her eyes flit to it now, the one that feels like a punch in the face whenever she looks at it, before she resolutely looks away.

“That sounds nice.”

Zeke’s the one who opens the door when they get there. “Hey,” he greets them, mouth turning up in a brief smile. “Come on in, Rae’s out on a Transfer but she should be back pretty soon.”

“We don’t really need to get started on the food for a while,” Bellamy says with a shrug. “We were just…”

“I get it.” Zeke claps him on the back. “Go on in, Lola will be happy to see you as always.”

Bellamy nods and disappears in the direction of the living room, and a moment later, happy yipping starts up.

“He really does have a way with animals,” Zeke notes, shaking his head amusedly before pinning Clarke with a penetrating look. “You OK?”

She lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “No.”

He squeezes her hand. “I know. And I know I can’t… just, you know that we’re here.”

She squeezes back. “I do.”

They follow Bellamy down the hall to find him on the couch, an overexcited dog trying to lick every inch of his face in his lap. But he’s laughing, face open and eyes unguarded, and Clarke files the scene away somewhere in her catalogue of memories.

Raven does get home just a few minutes later, and she and Bellamy immediately get to work in the kitchen. Zeke, who’s fine at cooking but usually defers to Raven because she’s better at it and likes it more, helps out when they want, while Clarke hangs out at the counter and offers unneeded and irrelevant commentary.

It would be a really good afternoon, if it weren’t for the dark cloud hanging over all of them.

The doorbell rings a little after five, which seems early even for Harper and Monty, who are always the ones to show up early.

“Will you get that, babe?” Raven asks, glancing at Clarke.

She sighs but jumps down off the bar stool. “Fine.”

Lola joins her, excitedly skipping down the hallway to the front door and yipping at whoever’s on the other side, and Clarke picks her up before opening the door, to make sure she doesn’t make a dash for it. Of course, when she sees who’s on the other side of the door, she almost drops the dog again.

“Wells?”

He offers a half-smile. “Hey. Surprise.”

She did know they were coming at some point, but she hasn’t actually talked to Wells or Sasha since the day after the wedding in Las Vegas, and neither of them wanted to bring this up at the time, for obvious reason.

She ushers them inside and makes sure the door is closed before letting Lola down again, and then she throws herself into Wells’ arms.

“Hi,” he mumbles into her hair, hugging her back just as tightly. She feels Sasha squeeze her arm and then hears her footsteps disappear down the hallway, Lola’s yipping accompanying her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Clarke says after a long moment.

“You did know we were coming,” he points out.

“I know, but I thought you might not get here until… after.”

“No, we wanted to… be here today.”

“Thank you.”

He kisses her hair before gently pulling out of the embrace. “You know there’s nowhere else either of us want to be right now, right?”

Clarke presses the heels of her hands against her eyes and then wipes away the few tears that have escaped. “I know.”

Wells gives her a moment and then asks, “Did we pull the surprise off this time, at least?”

She can’t help but laugh a little at that. “You did. So, basically, Raven’s still mad I figured out the surprise at Christmas, right?”

“Obviously.”

They join the others in the kitchen, where Sasha has rolled up her sleeves and joined Raven at the stove. Bellamy looks up when he hears them and he and Wells exchange quick greetings before he comes over to the counter, where Clarke reclaims her previous seat.

“Good surprise?” he asks, leaning his chin on her shoulder.

She leans back against him and pulls his arms around herself. “I guess I don’t need to ask if you were in on it then?”

He chuckles lightly. “Raven told me to not say anything, and I would never dare go against her direct orders.”

“Good instincts,” Raven says from across the room. “Now get back here and tell me this stuff is supposed to look like this.”

He sighs good naturedly but goes, after stealing a kiss, and Clarke leans against the counter, watching them.

Harper and Monty arrive half an hour later, Monty joining Wells who’s offering his commentary on the cooking and Harper sitting down next to Clarke at the counter, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She doesn’t ask if Clarke’s OK, which she’s grateful for, just offers her silent support.

The mood lightens, by necessity, once Miller and Jackson join the party, and soon after, Jasper and Maya arrive as well, completing their numbers.

They have decided to set the food up in the kitchen, so everyone can grab what they want to eat, instead of having to pass dishes around the table.

“OK!” Bellamy calls when he and Raven have gotten everything set up to their specifications. “Thanks for coming, guys, it’s good to see all of you again.”

“You’ve been on holiday for six months, you haven’t been off to war or something,” Miller says with an eye-roll. “And, like, forty percent of us saw you in Vegas three weeks ago.”

Bellamy ignores him. “So, this is basically a Filipino evening, since I got a bunch of recipes from my grandmother when we were there. So we have _c_ hicken adobo, which I already knew how to make, vegetarian sisig, spring rolls that are called lumpia with two fillings, one vegetarian and one with chicken, kalderetang baka beef stew, a noodle dish called pancit palabok, and finally, Raven somehow managed to find calamansi, so we’ve made calamansi juice. But there’s also, like, beer and stuff if you for some reason don’t want the complete experience.”

“I think what he’s trying to say,” Raven takes over when he stops talking, “is ‘dig in’!”

Bellamy heaves an exaggerated sigh and shakes his head as everyone grabs plates. Clarke holds off too, staying next to him as their friends load their plates with food and troop out of the kitchen.

“They’re all savages,” he complains half-heartedly and she pats him on the shoulder.

“It smells absolutely amazing,” she says. “They’re probably just eager to try everything.”

“I guess.”

When everyone else has disappeared, they grab their own food and close the kitchen door behind them, to Lola’s immense disappointment.

Raven has saved them seats at the middle of the table, and it’s exactly what Clarke had hoped it would be – good food, quality time with wonderful friends, Bellamy smiling as he shifts his attention between her and everyone else, and she feels a warm glow of gratitude settle in her chest. Gratitude that she has all these amazing people in her life, gratitude that she got to have Bellamy in it, even if it was for such a short time, that she got to know him at all.

When everyone’s finished eating, Raven breaks out some board games and they split into smaller groups.

“So this was really just a… dinner to show off all the food your grandmother taught you to make?” Miller asks when he, Jackson, Bellamy and Clarke have settled into a game of Scrabble at the dining table. Raven, Zeke, Jasper and Monty are at the other end of the table with a Monopoly board set up – Clarke’s keeping an eye on it, just to make sure nobody gets hurt – and Harper, Maya, Wells and Sasha are at the coffee table with Clue.

“That’s what we said, right?” Bellamy replies absentmindedly, squinting at his letters. “What else were you expecting?”

“Honestly? I thought there was… another big announcement coming,” Miller says with a shrug.

Bellamy drops the tile he just picked up to place on the board and raises his eyebrows at his friend. “Sorry to disappoint, but I promise you’ll be… OK, _one_ of the first to know if that happens.”

Miller raises his glass to her. “That’s all I’m asking. And to be named Godfather, of course.”

Bellamy snorts at that. “Right, because you’re the first choice for someone to teach kids about religion.”

“Fuck you too.”

They circle through the different games, switching up the groups, for a couple of hours. Clarke told Raven about her and Bellamy’s sunset tradition, so she times their dessert break – buko pandan, which she surprises even Bellamy with – so they can curl up on the couch for a few minutes and enjoy the delicious treat, which Bellamy praises as almost as good as Rosamie’s, while watching the golden orb sink below the horizon.

It’s long dark out, the lights in Jersey City twinkling across the Hudson, when Miller and Jackson exchange a look. “Right, tomorrow’s Saturday, but some of us actually have to work,” Miller says, sounding apologetic.

Bellamy’s playing Risk with Harper, Maya and Jasper but looks up at his friend’s voice and snorts. “You never work weekends.”

“Shut up, I’m being a good boyfriend,” Miller snaps back.

“Yeah, this is my fault, I have the morning shift tomorrow, so I’m on at six,” Jackson explains, getting up from the table. “I told Nate he should stay, but…”

“No, it’s fine,” Bellamy assures him with a smile, glancing at his watch. Clarke does the same – ten thirty. “We’ll probably call it a night soon too.”

Raven and Zeke are in the middle of a game of Clue with Monty and Wells, but she looks up and gives Clarke a questioning look. “Things are just getting good here, you can see them out, right?”

Clarke nods. “Of course.”

So she and Bellamy walk Miller and Jackson to the door, where Bellamy hesitates sort of awkwardly, obviously not sure how to actually say goodbye to his best friend, his almost-brother, without him realizing there’s more to it than a regular, Friday night parting.

“This was nice,” Jackson starts, giving Clarke a hug. “And it’s good to have you guys back.”

“It’s good to be back,” she replies, moving to hug Miller as well, hoping it will get Bellamy to do something too.

Jackson thanks him too with one of those guy-half-hugs and then he nods a little, as if making up his mind, and envelops Miller in a real bear hug.

“Really, thanks for coming, man,” he says and Clarke hopes she’s the only one who can tell that he’s a little choked up. Miller gives her a confused and slightly alarmed look over Bellamy’s shoulder, though, so she’s not sure. She just shrugs in return.

“Of course,” Miller replies, patting him on the back. “And I am glad you guys are home, OK? I was just kidding earlier.”

Bellamy takes a step back and Clarke can see him swallowing. “I know.”

“OK, we’re going to leave before this gets weird,” Miller says, eyeing Bellamy a little warily. “And it’s not like there’s a rush or anything, but I figured you want to get your stuff at some point? Jackson’s working a night shift on Sunday, maybe we can do a guy’s night and I’ll help you pack?”

Clarke reaches for Bellamy’s hand and he squeezes it, tight. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he agrees, voice only a little off. “We’ll talk on Sunday?”

“Great. Night.”

They leave and Bellamy manages to keep it together until the door closes behind them, but then he slumps against the wall. She steps into him, wrapping her arms around him, and holds him as he fights to get his breathing back under control.

When he finally takes a deep, mostly steady breath, she shifts back enough to be able to look at him. “OK?” He just shakes his head, and she nods, because she knows. It’s the same way she’s feeling herself. “You want to head out?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he replies, clearing his throat when his voice breaks a little. “Let’s go say goodbye to everyone else.”

It takes a while, because everyone wants to get some time with Bellamy, to… Clarke doesn’t know what, exactly, because she keeps her distance, giving him these private moments with the people that have become his friends too, that care about him just like she does. Raven keeps her company until everyone else has said their goodbyes, and then she passes Clarke over to Harper and pulls Bellamy along into the hallway, apparently for some more privacy than everyone else got.

She comes back into the living room alone and wraps Clarke up in a hug. “Call,” is all she says, and Clarke nods, even though she’s far from sure she will.

She offers the rest of the room a wave and then leaves.

Bellamy’s waiting by the front door, looking more or less calm. “You OK?” he asks when he sees her.

“No,” she says, claiming his hand in a probably too tight grip as he opens the door.

He snorts. “Maybe we should stop asking each other that, huh?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a clear night, the stars barely visible in the sky, the temperature probably around seventy degrees. A perfect summer night in the city, really.

“Do you still feel up for a walk?” Bellamy asks.

She knows that walking home won’t technically give her more time with him, but it still feels like it. And she does sort of want to retrace their steps from Halloween, an actual, physical walk down memory lane. So she squeezes his hand and nods. “Yeah.”

Unlike their first walk, when they talked about everything between heaven and earth, this one is mostly silent. It takes longer too, Clarke’s pretty sure – they stop now and then, to draw the other’s attention to something, or to just pull them close for a moment.

All too soon, though, they reach their building

“I’m getting the strangest sense of déjà vu,” Bellamy mumbles when she comes to a stop in the middle of the street and turns to him.

“Me too,” she replies just as quietly, reaching up to gently run her thumb over his Number. The clock passed midnight during their walk, and it’s ticked down for the last time.

“What’s happening with it?” he asks.

“It’s a zero now,” she explains, fighting to keep her voice level. “Last day.”

“So that’s the last thing that’ll happen, it counting down to zero?”

She shakes her head once. “No, it’ll… it’ll start fading when it…”

“Before it happens?”

“Yeah. Usually an hour or two before.”

“So we’ll have a little bit of warning.”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Laughter reaches them from somewhere further down the street, and Clarke realizes that people are out partying. It feels wrong on every level, but to most people in the city, it is still a Friday night at the end of July.

“You’re not going to bail on me again, are you?” Bellamy asks teasingly and she manages to force her features into a smile.

“It’s a bit too late for that.”

He leans down for a brief kiss before taking her hand and pulling her along towards the front door. “Then let’s go home.”


	62. To the Soul of Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I remember correctly (it’s been a while since I wrote this), this chapter and the next were originally one, but it ended up waaaaay too long, so I split them in two, which means another emotional chapter building to… well, I don’t need to say it
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “As I’m Leaving” by David Gray
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings

“Come on, bed time,” Bellamy says when the door to the apartment has closed behind them.

Clarke’s shaking her head before she’s even processed the words properly. “No, I’m not sleeping. I can’t… I know it’s only a few hours, but I want every moment I can get, OK?”

He reaches for her and she steps into his embrace willingly. “I know, OK?” he tells her. “But I know you didn’t sleep much last night, and things are going to be… rough, so can you please come to bed and at least try to get some rest? It would make me feel better.”

She buries her face against his throat. “What if you’re gone when I wake up?”

“Not going to happen,” he assures her, continuing before she can object that he can’t _know_ that. “I asked Raven, OK? Not for the exact time, but roughly, and she said evening. So I promise I will still be here when you wake up.”

He doesn’t say it, but the ‘one last time’ still hangs in the air between them.

“OK,” she agrees, still a little reluctant, though she knows he’s right.

“Thank you.” His lips brush her hair before he steps back.

Clarke immediately misses the warmth of his arms around her, a horrible taste of what her life is going to be like soon enough. But then he takes her hand instead and pulls her along towards the bedroom, and she tries to push everything else aside.

Bastet is asleep at the foot of the bed and gives Bellamy a dirty look when he nudges her so he can get the bedspread off. As soon as it’s gone, though, she jumps back onto the bed, turns in a circle, and goes right back to sleep in the same spot.

Clarke feels a little like she’s moving through molasses, her entire body heavy and reluctant, but she lets him guide her into the bathroom and brushes her teeth obligingly, lifts her arms when he tugs on the hem of her dress and lets him pull it off, gets her bra off herself and crawls under the comforter when he pushes it back for her.

He rounds the bed and manages to get in without disturbing the cat again. “I’m setting my alarm for five forty,” he tells her, tapping at his phone. “Sunrise is at five forty-eight. Do you want me to let you sleep, or…?”

“No,” she replies, rolling into him as soon as he’s put the phone away. “Wake me up.” If she actually does manage to fall asleep, she doesn’t want to miss his last sunrise.

Bellamy gets the comforter settled over both of them, shifting a little to get more comfortable and wrap his arms around her. “OK. Night.”

“Night.”

Clarke was almost a hundred percent sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but apparently her mind disagreed, because the next thing she knows, Bellamy’s alarm is blaring from the bedside table and she’s alone in bed.

Fear, cold and crippling, grips her and for a moment, she’s convinced that Raven was wrong, or that the time has changed, or something, because he wouldn’t leave her alone now, knowing she would panic if she woke up and he was gone, would he?

But then the bathroom door opens and there he is, smiling at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I thought I’d have time to go to the bathroom, but apparently not.” Her limbs finally start working again and she clambers out of bed and throws herself into his arms, which go around her automatically. “Hey, it’s OK, I’m here.”

She doesn’t respond to that, just clings to him for a long moment before slowly letting go. “Sorry.”

He reaches out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t apologize. You want to hug me all day, go ahead. I can carry you around, koala style.”

Clarke’s mouth tugs up involuntarily at that and he looks pleased with himself. “Sunrise?” she reminds him, and he nods.

“Right. I doubt anyone’s going to see, but we should probably still put on clothes.”

So she pulls on her robe, and he gets a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, and then they climb up to the roof.

The sky above and behind them, over Manhattan, is still dark, but the horizon to the east is already brightening when they get up there. It’s still warm, probably around the same temperature as when they got home earlier, but Bellamy still wraps himself around her, chin leaning against her shoulder, as they watch a new day begin.

His last.

It’s not the most spectacular sunrise they’ve seen over the last few months – that title probably belongs to the one at the Grand Canyon – but it is still beautiful, the way the golden rays slowly climb over the rooftops, chasing the shadows of pre-dawn away, before the sun finally rises high enough to actually peak over the buildings.

Clarke feels him let out a deep breath behind her when it does and she wraps her own arms around his, which are already wrapped around her, to pull them tighter against her. A moment later, his lips brush her temple.

“Bed for a few more hours?” he suggests quietly.

She knows Bellamy means to sleep, which she has no intention of doing. “Sure,” she says anyway, letting him pull her along back down the stairs and into the apartment.

Bastet was already gone from the bed when they got up earlier, and Clarke spots her slinking into the guest room when they pass, so when they’re back in the bedroom, she kicks the door closed behind them.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow, since he knows Bastet hates closed doors and will whine and probably scratch at the door until she gets bored or they let her in, but he doesn’t have time to say anything before Clarke pushes him back against the door and pulls his mouth down to hers.

He does return the kiss, one hand sliding into her hair to tilt her head a little and give them a better angle, the other anchoring on her hip to pull her closer, but he also slows it down, tempering her intensity with slow strokes of his tongue against hers.

Clarke briefly considers taking back control, speeding things up, but she’s not actually impatient for the sex part, she just wants him _close_ , just like this. So she lets him lead, lets him turn them around so she’s the one up against the wall, lets him untie the robe and push it off her shoulders. When he breaks the kiss to focus on her throat and chest, though, she reaches between them to get the tie in his sweatpants undone and pushes them off his hips. He kicks them to the side and gets his t-shirt while he’s at it, and then he’s stepping into her again, pressing her up against the wall with his own body.

“When I said ‘bed’ I was thinking we’d sleep for a little longer,” Bellamy murmurs, voice sounding amused, against her shoulder before nipping at her collar bone.

“Mmm, but my plan is so much better,” she replies, letting her nails rake down his chest and abs, making him shiver.

“So this is how it’s going to be today, huh?” he continues, retaliating by sliding both hands up her sides to cover her breasts, and she arches her back against him. “Nonstop sex?”

“We both know nonstop sex isn’t as fun as it sounds,” Clarke notes, letting out a gasp when he twirls her nipples between his fingers. “But lots of sex, yup. With intermittent breaks for, you know, food or whatever.”

He chuckles before straightening up to kiss her again. “Good priorities.”

She doesn’t respond to that, instead shimmying out of her panties before pushing his boxers down enough for him to get the idea. He shifts back half a step to get rid of them completely and then hooks her leg around his hip, grinding against her.

“I was going to eat you out,” Bellamy says, sounding almost disappointed. “But you just want to go for the main attraction?”

His words make her shiver with anticipation. “Later,” she tells him, reaching between them to wrap around him, pumping him slowly a couple of times just to make sure they’re on the same page, and then lining him up. “I’m good, trust me.”

He hums, leaning down to kiss her again, and pushes forward, sliding into her slowly. When he bottoms out, he stills, focusing completely on the kiss for a moment, turning it deep and dirty, and Clarke has to nudge him with her heel to get him to start moving.

When he does, though, it’s with determination, deep, hard thrusts that send shockwaves of pleasure through her. She wraps an arm around his neck, not that it seems like he wants to stop kissing her, but still, and presses closer. His hands roam all over her body, lighting a fire in their wake, and when one slides between them to rub her clit and the other finds her breast, it only takes a moment before she’s throwing her head back and coming apart around him with a loud moan.

He slows his movements as she rides the high, peppering her throat and chest with kisses, and when she comes down, she pulls him back up.

“Bed?” she suggests, pushing gently against his chest, and Bellamy chuckles but does pull out of her and step back.

“That’s what I suggested from the start,” he points out with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes and nudges him backwards until she can shove him gently onto the bed.

He falls back, pulling her down on top of him, and seems content to just make out. Which Clarke is fine with for, like, a minute, but then she reaches between them to wrap around him and slides down.

He groans when she rolls her hips, hands trailing down to anchor on her thighs, and matches her pace when she starts moving.

She starts out slow, but it doesn’t last long – her orgasm hasn’t quite let go and she can feel it building again – and when she speeds up, it seems to spur Bellamy on as well. His fingers dig into her thighs, almost painfully, and he pulls her down for a rough kiss. A few more thrusts and he fumbles between them, finding her clit just as he comes himself and pulling her along over the edge behind him.

“OK, that was way better than sleep,” he admits when they’ve both caught their breaths.

“See?” Clarke says, climbing off him to stretch out the right way in the bed instead. “I have the best plans ever.”

He follows, sliding in behind her and pulling her against his chest. “You do.”

They do end up dozing off a little, until a few minutes before eight when Bastet finally realizes she’s shut out of the bedroom and starts up a loud serenade of howling outside the door.

“Breakfast?” Bellamy asks, trailing his fingers up and down Clarke’s bare arm. She snuggles closer, closing her eyes for just another moment.

“What are you in the mood for?” she then asks, rolling onto her back and stretching.

She just catches his appreciative once over when she turns back to him.

“Let’s see what we have in the fridge, OK?” So they get dressed again and venture into the kitchen, where he opens the fridge and starts pulling stuff out – eggs, bacon, half a cantaloupe, some strawberries and blueberries…

“I was going to cook,” Clarke tells him. “You shouldn’t have to… not today.”

He puts a box of frozen waffles down on the counter and then cages her in, one hand on either side of her. “You know I love cooking with you,” he says with a smile. “At least breakfast, you suck at everything else, so…”

She swats at his chest and he steps away with a chuckle.

So they cook breakfast together. It’s strange, considering they’ve been traveling for the last six months and only had a month and a half of ‘normal’ life before that, but it feels like an ordinary morning. She doesn’t exactly _forget_ what day it is, what’s going to happen at some point in the next sixteen hours, it’s always at the edge of her mind, the way it has been for the last eight months.

But she can focus on the other stuff, on the way Bellamy laughs when she fails to catch a blueberry in her mouth, on the softness in his eyes when she catches him watching her, on his hand, big and warm, that never leaves her thigh under the counter while they eat, a comforting presence.

Memories she knows she’ll treasure in years to come, even if it hurts to think about that right now.

When they’ve finished eating, they clean up together, Clarke rinsing off their plates and cutlery and glasses, Bellamy loading them into the dishwasher, then he washes the pans they used to cook and she dries them.

When everything’s been put away and the kitchen is sparkling clean again, he wraps his arms around her from behind and buries his face in her hair for a moment. She’s just about to suggest they move back to the bedroom, when he clears his throat.

“Couch and TV?” he suggests.

Part of her wants to object, but on the other hand, this is the type of thing she wants to remember too. So she turns in his arms and smiles up at him. “Sounds perfect.”

They stretch out the way they usually end up after a long evening right from the start, Bellamy half-lying on the chaise and her half on top of him, and he opens Netflix and flips through the categories.

“Comedy,” she says when he passes it. “If that’s OK? I don’t want…”

He squeezes her hand to let her know she doesn’t need to explain and finds _Parks and Rec_. “We only got to the first episode of season seven,” he notes. “Twelve episodes left, that’s, like, four or five hours. What do you say?”

It’s as good as anything else, so she agrees and he starts the first episode.

And it’s… it is nice, just lounging around, a lazy Saturday together on the couch. Bastet apparently forgives them for their horrible neglect earlier after a while and forces herself between Bellamy and the arm of the couch, where she then purrs up a storm.

At the same time, it’s like there’s a live wire just under her skin, making her buzz with anxiety and glance at him every few minutes, just to make sure he’s still there, that the zero on his forehead hasn’t started fading yet. Which it hasn’t and won’t for a while, if Raven was telling the truth, and why would she lie about that?

“God, it’s like trying to cuddle with a mannequin or something,” he complains after an hour or so. “You need to relax.”

Clarke lets out a humorless laugh, which apparently scares Bastet enough that she gives both of them an annoyed look and saunters off to lick herself in a patch of sunlight by the window. “Sorry, I don’t think that’s going to happen today.”

He runs both hands up her arms to her shoulders and nudges her forward a little. “We’ll see about that.”

The massage is very nice, and she does go a little limp under his touch once he’s gotten her to lie down on her stomach and really digs into the tense muscles in her lower back. “Mmm.”

“Better?” he mumbles in her ear and she nods. “See, I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You do know there are… other ways to get me to relax, right?”

Bellamy’s hands freeze for a split second before he starts working a particularly sore spot in her left shoulder. “I know.”

She considers saying something else, but his hands really are magic, so she just lets herself enjoy it for a moment.

Honestly, she’s almost asleep when he wraps the massage up and she hears him move off the couch. “Where are you going?” Clarke asks, a little muddled.

“Not going anywhere,” he assures her, squeezing her thigh and then teasing the hem of her shorts. “I thought you wanted to relax some more.”

That gets her alert again and she bites her lip. “What did you have in mind?”

He’s actually sitting on the floor in front of the couch where she’s lying, and at her question, he smacks her butt lightly. “Clothes off, sit up.”

She scrambles to pull her tank top over her head and push her shorts and panties down her legs before sitting down again. Bellamy immediately pulls her forward, so she’s on the edge of the couch, before rising up enough to be able to kiss her.

She returns the kiss eagerly, heart already racing in her chest, and when he trails a hand down her stomach and into the curls between her legs, she knows he finds her already wet.

“You really liked that massage, huh?” he asks amusedly before kissing down her throat and chest and finally settling between her legs.

“It was OK,” she replies, trying to keep her voice lofty and failing completely when he leans in to nose at her. “I was hoping it was just the warm-up, though.”

He chuckles against her thigh, making her entire body break out in goose bumps. “You know me too well, Princess.”

Clarke’s about to respond but loses all train of thought when he finally licks into her, one hand finding her breast, and she has to focus on not crying out at the overwhelming sensation.

He works her slowly, the way she’s learned that he likes, bringing her right to the edge and letting her settle down again, and not until she’s literally begging for release does he relent and pushes her the last of the way over.

She collapses back against the couch, trying to catch her breath, but he’s not satisfied yet and replaces his mouth with his fingers, thumb relentless against her clit, and her second orgasm is almost too much, just this side of actually painful.

She fumbles for his hand, trying to push it away but her muscles aren’t working properly yet. “Too much.”

“But you have to admit that you’re relaxed,” he points out, leaning up to kiss her again, and she chases the taste of herself on his tongue.

“If by ‘relaxed’ you mean reduced to a liquid state, then sure.”

Bellamy laughs, pulling her closer, and she can feel the evidence of his own arousal against her stomach – he must have gotten rid of his own sweatpants and boxers at some point. She shifts a little, trying to get him where she wants him, and he pulls back to look down at her.

“This couch isn’t actually a good height for this,” he notes, and she can tell that he’s right – for them to actually be able to have sex, she would have to be a foot or so higher up, or he’d have to sort of slouch down, neither of which would be very comfortable for more than a minute or two.

“Get up here,” she tells him, tugging on his hand, and he sits down next to her. Her legs have started working enough that she can kneel up and straddle him. “Much better.”

He hums in agreement, tangling one hand in her hair to pull her in for a kiss, the other going between them to get himself lined up, and she sinks down.

They both still for a second, the moment extended in time, and then she starts moving determinedly, riding him hard and fast, and before long, he groans against her neck, pulsing deep inside her.

“I was going to get you off one more time,” he grumbles when he’s caught his breath, and Clarke laughs.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Give me five minutes.”

Her stomach choses that moment to rumble, though, and for a while, they’re distracted ordering lunch – Chinese food, at Bellamy’s request – and it’s not like they can open the door for the delivery guy naked, so they reluctantly get dressed again.

And that’s basically how the afternoon goes. They eat their food watching another episode, and then relax back onto the couch when the boxes are empty. After a while, his hand slides down her side and into her shorts, and after he gets her off with his fingers, she blows him. A little later, she pulls him down on top of her and they make out like teenagers until they’re both ready, and then he fucks her slow and deep, pulling her legs up over his shoulders for an even better angle, and she comes with a cry that scares the cat, who disappears for the next hour.

After that, they don’t even bother getting dressed again, Clarke just pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and they cuddle under it, half-watching the TV and getting distracted by each other.

When the sun starts sinking towards the horizon, she looks up at him, focusing on his Number.

“Is it…” Bellamy starts, but trails off.

“No,” she replies. “It’s still strong.”

“So we have time for pizza?”

She has to smile at that. “I think so, yeah.”

So they order pizza and cannoli from Juliana’s, another throw back to the early days, and put some clothes on again before eating as they watch the sun disappear behind the buildings across the river.

“Well, that’s as good a last meal as any,” Bellamy notes after the last bite of cannoli, and she feels her blood run cold, her breath going shallow.

“Be right back,” she says, keeping her voice light. “Bathroom.”

She must fool him, because he just squeezes her hand.

In the solitude of the bathroom, Clarke bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, watching as the wound heals as quickly as it appeared. She manages to get her breathing back under control and splashes some water on her face.

Then she realizes that she’s wasting precious minutes she could be spending with Bellamy, and takes a final, deep breath.

When she gets back to the living room, he’s just putting his phone down on the coffee table, and a moment later, a slow beat starts up from the sound system. He holds out a hand to her.

“Dance with me?”

Clarke just nods, joining him in the open space between the couch and dining table, stepping into the circle of his arms. They wrap around her waist and she sneaks hers up around his neck, leaning her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

_Settle down with me  
Cover me up  
Cuddle me in_

For a long moment, the only sound is the soft music and their breathing.

“Do you regret it?” Bellamy then asks, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear him.

She immediately shakes her head, burying her face against his neck. “How could I regret loving you?”

She feels his lips against her temple briefly. “You might,” he continues. “When… when it’s all over.”

And the thing is, she knows he’s right. She knows that the underlying sadness that’s been a constant in their relationship right from the start, and that’s been slowly but surely growing in the last few weeks, is nothing to what she’s going to feel tomorrow, or the day after, when he’s gone and she’s left behind.

But still… somehow, she thinks she’s starting to see Raven’s point.

It _has_ been worth it. Even if they only got such a short time together, it has. She wouldn’t trade the last few months for anything. Well, maybe for a lifetime with him, but it doesn’t work like that.

“Never,” she vows, hoping it’ll ease the guilt she knows he’s feeling, completely unjustified. It’s not like he has any control over this, no more than she does. If he had a choice, he would never leave her. She knows that, feels it deep in her bones.

Silence settles over them as they barely move to the notes. The sun must have set completely by now, darkness falling over New York, and Clarke wants to yell at it, scream at it, take her anger out on it. Because she doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to wake up tomorrow in a world that doesn’t have Bellamy Blake in it.

But that’s what’s going to happen, because she can’t do anything to change it.

“Thank you.”

The words whispered against her hair bring her back to the present, the cocoon of his arms around her.

“For what?”

“Just… the last few months,” he clarifies.

She buries her nose against his neck. “It was a hell of a trip, huh?”

Bellamy’s quiet for a moment.

“It really was,” he then agrees. “But that’s not… thank you for this time with _you_.”

She takes a beat to take that in. “Oh.”

“I was in a rut and I didn’t even know it,” he continues. “I had forgotten that life could be, _should_ be, more than just work and studying and the occasional beer out with Miller. So thank you for reminding me. For showing me the world, places I never in a million years dreamed I would get to se. For helping me start living again before it was too late.”

For a split second, she wonders what the last months of his life would have been like if she had turned him away when he showed up at the library back in November, if she had somehow managed to stick to her initial decision to stay away from him. Or if she had never met him at all, if she’d decided to go the other way that day back in October, if she’d caught the subway earlier.

He would have stayed in New York, kept working himself to exhaustion with his job and his classes. He wouldn’t have had a chance to make things right with Octavia. And he would have died… how? Alone, at home? It’s Saturday night, so maybe out at a club or a bar with Miller? Or maybe in bed with someone else, some girl he picked up for a bit of fun?

She doesn’t want to linger on the last one too much, but the facts still stand – he would have died. No matter what Clarke did. And he still will, she knows that, but he’s telling her that she’s made the last little bit of his life better. And that’s really all she can ask for.

“I’m glad I could,” she mumbles against his skin.

The song ends and another one starts, the beat still slow, and they continue swaying slowly from side to side, bodies pressed as close together as possible.

_I will love you till the world stops turning  
and ever after when it comes_

_Fitting_ , she thinks absentmindedly as the lyrics register, and turns her head slightly, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Bellamy’s neck. He lets out a deep breath and slides one hand up under her top, warm fingers splaying across her back.

Clarke pulls back, meeting his eyes for a moment before tugging him down, roughly, for a kiss. He returns it with just as much greed, his other hand coming up to slide into her hair, tilting her head just a little for a better angle.

They kiss like that, like it’s the only thing in the world they need, like it’s more important than breathing, for an infinite moment. The music around them changes, the world outside the windows darken a little more, and the lights across the river twinkle to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content
> 
> Songs in the chapter are “Kiss Me”, Ed Sheeran, and “Til the World Stops Turning”, Kaleb Jones, both beautiful and (especially the second one) sad songs if, you know, the chapter wasn’t enough on its own


	63. As Long as Stars Are Above You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so, posting is going to look a little different this week – I’m planning Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, if you want a schedule! I want to give everyone some time to digest the chapters, but also not drag it out, if that makes sense!
> 
> Chapter title from “How Long Will I Love You”. I imagine the version with Ellie Goulding from the movie “About Time” – great movie, check it out if you get a chance. 
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Seriously, see the end of the chapter for warnings!!

When the last song on the playlist ends, Clarke pulls back enough so she can tug Bellamy’s shirt over his head.

“You sure?” he asks as she wraps her arms around him again. “I don’t want to, like, traumatize you by dropping dead right in the middle or something.”

She tries to take it as the joke it’s obviously meant to be, but the little laugh she lets out still sounds more like a sob.

“We should be OK,” she says, reaching up to run her thumb over the zero on his forehead, still bright. “It hasn’t started fading yet…”

He nods once at that and before she has a chance to react, he bends down and sweeps her into his arms.

This time, the laugh that escapes her actually sounds like a laugh, bright and surprised.

“Careful, you’ll throw your back out,” she warns him, getting a raised eyebrow in return.

“I’ll worry about that in the morning.”

She pushes the underlying meaning of the words away, because she wants this, wants to feel him above her and inside her, surrounding her, one last time. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been having sex on and off the whole day. She _needs_ this.

He carries her to the bedroom, where the sheets are still rumpled from this morning, and carefully lays her down on the bed. His eyes never leave hers as he slowly crawls onto the bed to her.

She reaches for him, wanting to pull him down on top of her, but he gently pushes her hands down, above her head, before giving her a soft but too brief kiss.

“Let me do this my way, OK?” he says quietly as he pulls away, and she nods.

He starts by kissing his way from her lips down her throat and left arm, all the way to her hand where he places one last kiss in the palm of her hand before moving to the other side and kissing her right palm too, moving up her arm and throat this time, ending with a slow, deep kiss that has her gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

Bellamy doesn’t give her a chance to really catch her breath, though, as he peppers kisses along her collar bones and down her ribcage, over her top, until he gets to the narrow strip of skin visible above her shorts, where he lingers, nibbling at the skin on her stomach, dipping his tongue into her belly button.

Just as Clarke’s about to make an impatient noise to get him to keep going, he hooks his thumbs in her top and starts pushing the material up, infuriatingly slowly, kissing and licking at the skin revealed. When he finally gets the garment over her breasts, she’s panting underneath him and really can’t help the drawn out whine that leaves her when he finally wraps his lips around her nipple and pulls it into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathes out when he lowers his body down on top of hers for a moment, his hips grinding against hers, his erection rubbing against her clit and making shockwaves shoot through her entire body.

But all too soon, he shifts away, pulling her top the rest of the way off and quickly moving down her body. She feels his mouth on the inside of her right ankle, his tongue darting out to taste her, before he starts moving up the inside of her leg, his hand mirroring the movement on the outside. When he reaches her inner thigh, just below where her shorts end, and sucks a bruise into the sensitive flesh, she can’t help but arch off the bed towards him.

He squeezes her hip lightly before raising his eyes to hers. “Patience, Princess.”

She nods breathlessly and watches as he moves to her left leg and presses a kiss to her ankle. As he slowly makes his way back up, she realizes what he’s doing – he’s trying to memorize her, map every inch of her body, almost like _he’s_ the one that needs to remember this for the rest of his life.

She swallows down the sob that rises up in her throat at the thought and focuses on the feel of his lips on her skin, his warm hand sliding up her leg. Surprisingly enough, it works, and by the time he noses at her sex through her shorts and panties, she’s completely focused on him again.

Bellamy pushes himself up on one elbow and tugs the cord of the shorts loose, and she lifts her hips off the bed a little to help him slide them down. Instead of pulling down her panties too, though, he places a hand on her stomach, pushing her down on the bed again, and continues up her body until he’s hovering above her.

Her eyes are immediately drawn to the Number on his forehead, and Clarke doesn’t want to think about that, so she pulls him down to her, her mouth probably too insistent on his, but he doesn’t complain, instead returning the kiss just as desperately for a moment before slowing it down.

She hums contentedly as Bellamy’s hand covers her breast, warm and familiar, and he nips at her bottom lip before moving down, kissing every erogenous spot he’s discovered over the last eight months until he gets to her breasts, where he replaces his hand with his mouth and sucks a nipple into his mouth.

Clarke lets out a whine, and a moment later, when his hand slides down her stomach and he cups her through her panties, she jerks her hips against him, needing more friction.

She feels his chuckle against her breast, his hot breath ghosting over her, and then his knuckles sliding over her clit.

He doesn’t take her panties off, doesn’t even push them aside, doesn’t make any move to slide a finger inside her, but still, within minutes, his teeth grazing her nipple and his thumb rubbing persistent circles on her clit has her falling over the edge.

Bellamy moves up, kissing her through the waves of pleasure, drawing it out by easing up on the pressure for a moment before increasing it again. When he finally breaks the kiss and pulls his hand away, Clarke is so overwhelmed that she barely registers the fact that he tugs on her panties. He obviously manages to get them off without any assistance from her, because a moment later, she feels his finger sliding along her slit, no barrier between them this time, and he’s back next to her, his lips finding hers for another deep kiss.

She lets out a moan against his lips as he slips the finger inside, her muscles still fluttering with the final ripples of her orgasm, and her hips rise off the bed of their own accord to meet him.

He starts out easy, just one finger pumping slowly into her, giving her time to come down completely. She wants to touch him in return, so she shifts slightly onto her side so she’s almost facing him, which he doesn’t object to. When she slides her hand down his stomach, though, he breaks the kiss and pulls his finger out of her, grabbing her wrist.

“Uh-uh, Princess, I’m not done yet,” he tells her and she frowns at him.

“But I want to touch you too,” Clarke complains before moaning as he plunges two fingers into her, picking up his previous pace.

“I know, baby, soon, OK?” The words are whispered into her ear and when he pulls her earlobe into his mouth, she can just hum her agreement.

Her right hand is resting on the bed between them, fingers curled around the sheet, and she wraps the fingers of her other hand around his forearm, nails digging into his skin, as he curls his fingers inside her, hitting that sweet spot just right.

“Fuck,” she gasps when his thumb nail grazes her clit once, hips bucking uncontrollably against him.

“That’s right, Princess, give me another one,” he murmurs against her lips before kissing her, and a moment later, she does, convulsing around his fingers, head thrown back.

“Are you trying to break a record or something?” she asks breathlessly when her brain starts working properly again.

Bellamy’s propped up on his elbow above her, watching her with a soft expression on his face. “Got to give you something to remember me by, right?”

The reality of the situation hits her like a truck at ninety miles per hour, and she immediately shakes her head. “No, no, that’s not… you…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he interrupts her, wiping away the lone tear that’s escaped down her cheek. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, I didn’t mean… shhh…”

Clarke blinks rapidly to hold the tears back. “I know, I know, it’s OK.”

He leans down, resting his forehead against hers, and she lets her eyes slide closed.

“I love you, Princess, so, so much… I just want to make you feel good, OK?”

He doesn’t add ‘one last time’, but they both know it’s implied. The elephant in the room.

They remain still in that position for a long moment, and when Bellamy finally moves away slightly, giving her a questioning look, she’s pulled herself together enough to offer him a small smile.

He kisses her softly before moving down her body once more, settling on his stomach between her thighs, draping her legs over his shoulders and opening her up for him.

He pushes her to the edge and over twice more with his mouth and fingers before she finally gets him on his back and out of his sweatpants.

Clarke takes her time, like he did earlier, covering every inch of skin she can reach with kisses, nibbling here and there and letting her tongue come out and play now and then. By the time she wraps her hand around the base of his dick and takes him into her mouth, his breath is loud and ragged in the quiet room.

“Wait, wait, I want…” he starts, but trails off when she sucks hard.

She knows what he’s trying to say, that he wants to make love to her, come inside her, and she wants that too, but she also wants this. So she sets a quick pace, using her hands as well as her mouth, and within a minute, his hips jerk off the bed and she swallows down every drop.

“Fuck, Princess,” he sighs when she’s crawled up the bed and stretched out next to him. “I wanted to…”

“I know,” she cuts him off, throwing a leg over him and pulling herself closer. “So you better get a move on.”

Bellamy just stares at her for a moment, then his mouth slowly quirks up in a smirk and in one swift move, he has her on her back and is looming above her.

“Are you going to time me or something?” he asks, tugging lightly on her hair to get her to tilt her head to the side and immediately latching on to the sensitive spot just below her ear.

Clarke actually lets out a laugh that quickly becomes a moan when he flicks her nipple with his thumb.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” she breathes out. “But if you want a challenge…”

He chuckles against her shoulder and grinds his hips against hers. He’s softened again, definitely nowhere near ready for the activities they both have in mind, but she runs both hands down his back, letting her nails drag lightly over the skin, and then up again along his sides, making him shiver and, yeah, it shouldn’t take too long.

Bellamy seems to take his own recovery period as an opportunity to get her off once more. He gets comfortable half on top of her, propped up on his elbow and with one hand buried in her hair, alternating between tugging on the strands and scraping his nails against her scalp, both of which he knows she likes. His other hand slides up her side to her breast, playing with her nipple, and his lips never stop moving – from her shoulders, her throat, her chest, briefly sucking a nipple into his mouth, to finally return to hers for a long, deep kiss before he repeats everything once more.

The next time he leans in for a kiss, his hand abandons her breast and trails lower, past where she wants it and down her inner thigh, then up the other before he finally slips one finger inside her. Clarke lets out a breath against his mouth and lifts her hips in time with his finger moving inside her. He soon adds another, curling them just right, and she reaches down to wrap her hand around his already hardening dick, desperate to get him inside her.

Bellamy moans into her mouth at the feeling, his hips jerking against her hand, and she sets a pace that matches that of his fingers. After a few minutes, though, he starts rubbing circles against her clit with his thumb and, well, she can’t focus on anything else.

This orgasm creeps up on her, one moment it’s just starting to build somewhere deep inside her, the next it crashes over her, pulling a cry from her lips and making her body arch off the bed.

He lets her ride it out, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as she gasps for breath. Once she starts coming down, though, he moves above her, and she feels the head of his dick pressing against her entrance. She opens her eyes, meeting his just inches above her, and angles her hips up to pull him inside her. He does the rest, moving forward and sinking into her to the hilt in one, slow motion.

Clarke’s eyes close briefly as he fills her completely, but she wants to see him, so she opens them again and pulls him down for a kiss.

“So,” she starts when he breaks it. “Did you have a number in mind? What’s the goal here?”

He chuckles at her question before pulling out a little and pushing back inside. She pulls her leg up so she gets better purchase to meet his thrusts, and he lets out a moan at the slight change in angle.

“I don’t know,” he gets out after a moment. “Double digits?”

Well, he’s halfway there.

“Can we maybe compromise on six?” she asks, using her inner muscles to squeeze him as he pulls out again.

“Fuck,” he gasps, snapping his hips forward and thrusting into her a little harder than before. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

She reaches up to press a kiss to his throat. “I just want to come with you.”

He doesn’t stop moving, but he pulls away from her a little to be able to look at her better. After a moment, he nods, leaning down to kiss her. “I think we can arrange that.”

They settle into a slow rhythm that reminds Clarke of their mornings in bed back in the Seychelles or Bora Bora, lazy and unhurried, but with an underlying tension that isn’t there normally. She pulls him down so he’s more or less lying on top of her, their bodies sliding together effortlessly due to the light layer of sweat that covers them both. She doesn’t know how long it stretches on, it feels like an eternity, but eventually, the way Bellamy’s pelvic bone drags against her clit on each thrust makes the first tingling of another orgasm go through her.

“I’m getting close, babe,” she breathes against his ear before letting her teeth graze his earlobe, and his hand clenches almost painfully around her breast.

“Wait for me,” he murmurs before pulling her bottom lip between his teeth and picking up the pace a little.

But it’s not like she can stop it, and it’s coming on fast now, she can tell, so she tightens her muscles around him, which she knows almost always works. He releases her lips and leans his forehead against hers, drawing in a ragged breath.

“Fuck, I’m…” He trails off and manages to get a hand between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit and pressing down. “You there?”

She nods frantically as the first wave of her orgasm washes over her, and a split second later, he pushes into her one last time, hard, and stills. His lips slide over hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth, and they kiss lazily as their bodies clench and pulse. Bellamy comes down first but doesn’t move as her climax stretches on, staying buried deep inside her.

When she finally opens her eyes and takes a long, shaky breath, he presses a kiss to her forehead before rolling them so he’s on his back. Clarke shifts a little so she’s in a more comfortable position and settles in half on top of him, one leg thrown over his, her arm stretching over his stomach and her head on his chest.

His hand slides up her back, then down and finally settles on her hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles against her skin.

“I love you,” he mumbles into her hair and she turns her head to kiss his chest.

“I love you. I always will.”

Bellamy just hums in reply, and silence fills the room.

After a couple of minutes, the cool air from the air conditioning makes Clarke shiver a little, and she fumbles behind her for a moment before finding the comforter and pulling it over both of them.

“Can you promise me something, Princess?” he asks as she settles down against him again.

“Anything.”

“I need you to live, OK?”

She should have seen it coming, of course. Raven has already voiced something similar – “You know life was hell for a long time after Finn died, but you got me through that, so let me do the same for you, OK? You can’t… just promise me you’ll let me do this for you?”. She had promised, of course. And it’s not like it hasn’t crossed her mind. She knows the next few days, weeks, months, maybe even years will be the worst in her long life, and maybe she will feel like she just can’t go on without Bellamy, but she’ll have Raven and Zeke, and Wells and Sasha, and her other friends… she will get through it. And that thought breaks her heart in a whole other way. But at least she can make him this promise.

“I will, promise.”

She feels him let out a breath and then his lips against the top of her head.

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t answer, just moves her head a little so she can feel his heart beating against her cheek. Thump… thump… thump… His chest rises and falls slowly, and she times her own breathing to it. She wonders how many beats, how many breaths he has left. She’s avoided looking at his Number since they came to bed, but she knows it must have started fading by now. The clock on the bedside table that she can see if she shifts her head just a little reads 11:09, so there’s barely an hour left of the day.

It feels like a bubble has formed around them, enclosing them in this moment, and Clarke wishes she could pause it, make it last forever. She would be perfectly happy to just stay here, in this room, this bed even, if it meant she got to keep him with her.

The clock ticks on, 11:17, 11:25, 11:31. As midnight inches closer, the absurd thought that maybe someone’s taken pity on them flashes through her mind. She doesn’t know who’s behind her assignments, who decides who lives and dies and when and how, and she hasn’t really questioned it for a long time… but maybe they think she deserves more than this, that _Bellamy_ deserves more. Just maybe…

She vaguely registers that his thumb has stopped moving against her hip and then, a split second later, that the thumping against her cheek is gone.

That’s when the memories wash over her.

_Mommy is screaming and she doesn’t know why. Mrs. Allen said something about the baby, but why would the baby want to hurt Mommy?  
“Bellamy, sweetheart, why don’t you go into the kitchen?”  
It’s Mrs. Allen, she’s sitting on the bed between Mommy’s legs.  
She shakes her head. “No, I want to stay with Mommy.”  
“It’s OK, Maura, let him stay.”   
Mommy screams again.   
She claps her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut, but she can still hear it.  
Then there’s another sound, and she opens her eyes again.  
“Come meet your baby sister, Bellamy.”_

_“What’s today, Bell?”  
Octavia’s jumping on her bed. She’s not supposed to do that, but Mom’s not home so it doesn’t matter.  
“You know what day it is, O.”  
“No I don’t, you have to tell me.”  
She sighs. “It’s your birthday.”  
“Yay!”_

_The envelope is thick. Thick envelopes are good. But she still can’t bring herself to open it.  
“Come on, man, you know you got in.”  
Miller’s encouraging words are not helping. But it’s not like it’ll go away so she sticks her finger under the flap and opens it.  
“Dear Bellamy, on account of the admissions committee, it is my honor and privilege to share with you that you have been admitted to the College of Arts and Science at New York University…”  
“See!”_

_It’s quiet when she closes the door behind her.  
“Mom?”  
No answer. But Mom should be home, she said she didn’t have to work tonight…  
She kicks off her shoes and continues into the living room. Empty. Maybe Mom got called in unexpected…  
She turns on the TV but doesn’t sit down. She’s hungry, so she goes into the kitchen to grab something to eat.  
The sight makes her stop in the doorway.  
“Mom?”  
Why is she on the floor?  
“Mom!”  
She slumps down next to her, doesn’t know what to do. Check for a pulse, that’s it.  
Nothing.  
Check breathing.  
Nothing.  
How do you do CPR again? She tries to remember, touching Mom’s cheek.  
She’s cold._

_The church is almost empty. She thinks it’s funny, since Mom had so many jobs. She should have more friends than this…  
The priest says something about heaven, but she tunes him out, staring at the photo on top of the coffin. Octavia sniffles next to her and she wraps an arm around her shoulders._

_“I’m eighteen, I can make my own decisions!”  
She curls her hands into fists to avoid hitting something. Like a wall. Not Octavia, never Octavia.  
“All I’m saying is that you need an education, O.”  
“Why? You don’t have a college degree, why do I need one?”  
“I didn’t have a choice!”  
“Don’t blame me for that, I didn’t ask you to drop out of school.”  
“And where would you be if I hadn’t, huh? What do you think Mom would have said if I had let you get sucked into the system?”  
Octavia doesn’t answer the question, just gives her an angry look.  
“This is my choice, you’re not my dad or even my legal guardian anymore, so you can’t tell me what to do.”  
“I’m just trying to do what’s best for you!”  
“Maybe let me decide that!”  
“Do you think this is what Mom would have wanted? For you to throw your life away to go on some sort of adventure?”  
She’s never seen her sister so angry before.  
“Go to hell!”  
The front door slams when she leaves._

_Someone bumps into her, but it’s not like that’s anything out of the ordinary on the streets of New York.  
Something moves in front of her, someone falling forward, into the street. She doesn’t even think, just takes a step forward and grabs the woman by the arm, yanking her back onto the sidewalk and out of the cab’s path.  
“Are you OK?” The woman turns and looks up at her, and it’s like looking right at the sun. So that’s what people mean when they talk about love at first sight… She just stares up at her, eyes wide. “Miss?”  
_ _“I’m fine, thank you so much.”  
Her voice is deeper than she thought it would be but somehow suits her.  
“Are you sure?”   
“Just a little shaken up.”   
The woman smiles, and it does funny things to her, somehow making her stomach swoop and her heart beat harder and her chest ache at the same time.  
“Good.”_

_“Will you show me?”  
She glances over at Clarke and they’re so close, it would be so easy to lean in and kiss her. She wants to, maybe more than she’s ever wanted anything in her entire life. But she doesn’t.  
“I can try…” She points to the sky and feels Clarke move closer. “That’s the moon.” An elbow in her side. “Seriously, though, hang on…”  
There’s too much light around them to see the stars properly, so she downloads a star app on her phone and opens it.  
“You seriously downloaded a star map?”  
“You wanted me to tell you about the stars. We can’t see them here, this is the next best thing. Now, are you paying attention?”  
She holds the phone up above them. “So, that’s Ursa Major, the Big Dipper…”_

_“It’s almost time for lunch, do you want to get something to eat?”  
She’s going to say no, she’s going to say no. You cornered her at work, there’s no way she’d willingly go out with you. She probably thinks you’re a stalker or something. She might have already called the cops, you should just leave. Give up._   
_“I’d like that.”_

_The bedroom is mostly dark, the only light coming through the windows. Clarke’s breathing has been deep and even for a long time, but she can’t sleep.  
She’s never really thought about dying. She’s thirty, for God’s sake, she shouldn’t have to think about it, not for a long time. But fate or the universe or whatever doesn’t seem to care about that.  
Two hundred and seven days. That’s all she has left to live. It’s almost impossible to take in… she wonders if it would be easier if she’d gotten the news in a doctor’s office, some scientific explanation behind it. Instead of… this.   
Is Clarke even telling the truth? But why would she lie? If she does take her up on the whole round the world trip thing, the only one losing anything over that would be Clarke, so it just doesn’t make sense.  
Clarke shifts a little in her sleep, then lets out a deep breath and she runs a hand up her back, the soft, smooth skin under her fingertips soothing somehow._

_Clarke stays asleep when she carefully gets out of bed and she closes the door quietly behind her.  
Octavia’s already in the kitchen, eyes intent on the coffee maker where the brown liquid is dripping into the pot below. She looks up when she hears her steps.  
“Morning, big brother,” she greets with a smile that’s way too perky for this early in the morning. “Feeling OK today?”  
She huffs and sits down at the table. “I should be asking you that, you had a lot more to drink than I did.”  
Her sister shrugs as she opens a cupboard to grab mugs. “Not that much.”  
She accepts the mug of coffee gratefully and takes a long sip.  
“Mmm, good.”  
“I have gotten better at making coffee, yeah.”  
Octavia’s words bring to mind a day long ago, their mom’s birthday, when they tried to make her breakfast in bed. O was in charge of the coffee, but somehow – she’s still not sure how – the liquid was thick as tar.  
“You sure have.”  
“There’s pancakes and bacon and stuff in the oven, Lincoln made it earlier, but maybe we should wait for Clarke to get up.”  
“Good idea.”  
They drink in silence for a moment before Octavia jumps back up. “I have something for you.”  
Before she can say anything, her sister disappears into the hallway and she hears a drawer opening and closing. She finishes her own coffee and then grabs both mugs to rinse off in the sink.  
“I honestly don’t even know why I took it,” O says when she returns to the kitchen, putting down a small velvet box on the kitchen counter. “No, that’s not true. I was mad at you and I knew that Mom always meant for you to have it, since it was your dad’s originally.”  
She stares at the box for a long moment. She knows what’s inside, but somehow, she can’t quite believe it.  
“I thought I lost it when I moved,” she says eventually, picking the box up and turning it over in her hands.  
Octavia grimaces. “Sorry.”  
“Why are you giving me this now?”  
“Partly because this is the first time I’ve seen you since I took it.” O waggles her eyebrows a little. “And partly because I think you’re going to need it soon.”  
She finally snaps the box open and there it is. The ring her dad gave her mom over thirty years ago. It doesn’t have a diamond, like most engagement rings, but a blue stone that she can’t remember the name of but that her mom always told her was from somewhere near her dad’s hometown in the Philippines. It had been in the family for generations.  
She can’t help but note that the color matches Clarke’s eyes perfectly.  
“You may be right about that.”  
Octavia squeals, reminding her of her teenage years. “You’re not even denying it? Man, Bell, you have it bad…”  
She doesn’t even respond to that, just rolls her eyes.  
“Morning.”  
Clarke’s voice makes her snap the lid closed on the box and quickly and, hopefully, discreetly stuff it into her pocket.  
“Morning. Did you sleep OK?” Octavia asks.  
She feels Clarke’s eyes on her back. She has to make up some excuse to be able to put the ring in her bag instead of pocket. She turns and puts on a smile, hoping it looks natural. “Morning, Princess.”  
She can tell that Clarke knows something’s up.  
“Morning. And I slept fine, thank you.”_   
_“Not too hung over? Lincoln made his famous hangover breakfast before he left, we were just waiting for you to get up.”  
“A bit of a headache but nothing too bad. But food sounds good.”  
“I’ll be right back,” she says. “Bathroom.”_

_“Is that the Arc de Triomphe?”  
“Yup,” Clarke says, leaning against the railing. “And I think that might be our hotel.”  
She steps in close behind her, inhaling her familiar scent.  
“Yeah?”   
Paris is stretched out beneath them, and when Clarke half-turns to look up at her, she realizes that this is it. The moment.  
The ring has been burning a hole in the inside pocket of her jacket all morning, and she should get it out to do this properly, but she doesn’t particularly want to pull away from Clarke. She can get it after she does the actual proposal. Instead, she leans in for a quick kiss, gathering courage. “Love you, Princess.”  
“I love you.”  
Before she can say anything else, there’s a cry coming from somewhere on their right, and when she turns to see what’s going on, a man is down on one knee, holding up an open ring box to his girlfriend, who’s crying but nodding her yes.  
And, really, you can’t propose right after someone else does. It’s a little disappointing, but there will be other opportunities on this trip. They’ll get their moment. One that’s just theirs._

_Despite Clarke’s very vigorous attempt at distracting her, she still can’t really sleep, just dozes off now and then, immediately jerking awake at any sound. By the time she manages to properly fall asleep, it’s already getting light out, and when Clarke’s alarm goes off, it feels like she’s only gotten a couple of hours of sleep, at most.  
She does fall right back to sleep once they’re in Anya’s car, so that’s another hour, but by the time they’ve dropped off their bags at their new hotel and driven over to the address Anya found, her head is spinning from both tiredness and nerves.  
Clarke stays by her side, a huge relief and comfort, and possibly the only reason she doesn’t fall to her knees right there in the street when the woman – her grandmother – stares at her, eyes wide and hungry, as if trying to take in every single feature at once.  
Anya does the introductions, or at least she assumes that’s what’s happening, she’s not really paying attention, and then they’re in the yard, a couple of young children giving her long looks until they’re sent away.  
She keeps a firm grip on Clarke’s hand as she and her grandmother study each other, trying to find words, any words, something to say, and coming up empty.  
Then her grandmother raises her hands, placing her palms against her cheeks – her skin is warm and soft, a little dry – and there are tears in her eyes.  
“My Bellamy.”  
That’s the moment when all the fears disappear, because it’s the sound of hope, of joy, of finally having the person the name belongs to in front of you after waiting for much too long.  
This woman, she realizes, loves her, even never having met her.  
It’s an overwhelming feeling._

_She’s antsy before they even reach Las Vegas. She tries to keep busy by looking out for the ‘Welcome to Las Vegas’ sign, but when she mentions it, Clarke tells her it’s actually in the city itself, which doesn’t make sense.  
The hotel is fantastic, of course, and their room as well, and she tries to seem appropriately amazed by everything, but her mind is still stuck on the velvet box that’s still in a pair of socks in her suitcase, waiting to be used.  
Ideally, she’d want to… not get it over with, because she’s looking forward to the actual proposal, to Clarke’s reaction to seeing their friends, but the wait is seriously killing her. But right after they get to their room, O texts that she and Lincoln are going to catch a couple of hours of sleep to try to counteract the jetlag, and she texts back, suggesting that they meet at the Paris after sunset, since the lit up Strip and lightshow on the Eiffel tower replica will be a good backdrop. After sending basically the same text to Raven, they decide to meet there at around eight thirty, so she suggests relaxing in their room for a while, and then they explore the hotel – which is seriously huge – a little and grab some food, before she finally brings up going outside to check out the Strip.  
The sun has set by now, but the temperature has barely dropped, still way too warm for her taste. They check out the fountain show again before she starts carefully and, hopefully, somewhat discreetly ushering Clarke in the direction of the lit tower.  
She stops when she spots Raven and her sister, digging the ring box out of her pocket, and when Clarke stops two steps later, she drops down on one knee and opens the box.  
“Raven?”  
“Surprise!”  
She can practically hear the wheels turning in Clarke’s head. “What are you guys doing here? Bellamy, what’s…”  
She turns as she speaks and when she spots her, she cuts herself off, eyes widening and mouth falling open.  
She’s vaguely aware of her sister and their friends behind Clarke, and the sound of the other tourists around them, but she’s completely focused on Clarke, trying to read her expression without much success.  
She clears her throat. “So I kind of missed the opportunity at the real deal,” she starts, voice shaking slightly. “But I figured this would work just as well. So, what do you say, Princess? Marry me?”  
Static fills her ears for a moment as Clarke just stares at her, but then she smiles. “Of course!”_

_The place Raven picked out is pretty much perfect – not too over-the-top, which she was a little worried about, just a nice room which has been decorated with simple flowers in white and light shades of pink, a couple of rows of white, wooden folding chairs and some more flowers at the front of the room.  
Miller helps her go through the ceremony with the officiator, deciding which parts of it to use, and then they’re shown to a room to change, and can’t do anything but wait.  
She almost has a heart attack when the door opens and Octavia appears.  
“What’s wrong, did Clarke change her mind?” she asks immediately.  
“Nah, she was just worried about you,” O assures her, though she doesn’t meet her eyes so there has to be _something _going on.  
“You can tell me if something’s wrong, O,” she insists, and Octavia sighs.  
“Nothing is wrong, stop worrying. But I’m obviously just making you nervous so I might as well go back. I promise I won’t let her make a run for it – kidding! I’m just kidding, relax.”  
She’s saved from having to point out that it’s not funny by Miller, who gives Octavia an unimpressed look. She raises her hands in mock surrender and backs out of the room.  
“What if she has changed her mind?” she asks a moment later.  
“Maybe she has,” Miller replies with a careless shrug. “But come on – she’s not going to bolt and dump you. If she’s changed her mind, it’s about getting married _here _,_ today _, not about marrying you. I’m obviously not an expert, but don’t girls usually want the whole nine yards? Big wedding with all their family and friends, huge reception, stuff like that…”  
She lets out a breath. “Maybe. I think she would have told me, though.”  
“See?” Miller claps her on the shoulder. “You know her better than I do. Now come on and let’s get you married.”  
Everyone but Raven and Octavia are already seated in the front row when she and Miller join the officiator at the front of the room, and a couple of minutes later, they slip in through the double doors and join the others, Octavia giving her a discreet thumbs up.  
And then the music starts, and the doors open, and all there is is Clarke.  
The ceremony is mostly a blur, but they both contribute when they need to, and then they’re kissing and their friends are cheering and they’re officially married._

When the memories fade away and Clarke returns to the present, tears are streaming down her cheeks, onto Bellamy’s chest. The chest that’s no longer rising and falling as he breathes, that’s silent, no more heartbeats.

She knows she has to call 911, even though there’s nothing they can do, knows she can’t just stay here with him… but for a while, just for a little while, she does, curled up on her side, clutching him to her as sobs wreck her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content and MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, please be aware…
> 
> I’m sorry. I know we all knew this was coming, but it was absolute torture to write… I hope you won’t give up on me, though, there are still several chapters to go


	64. Be Still, Be Still, and Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to leave a comment on the last chapter, despite all the feelings, it was so wonderful to read all your thoughts and reactions! I know it was a difficult chapter to read (it was even harder to write) and this will be more of the same, unfortunately, but I am so incredibly grateful for everyone who’s sticking with me!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Be Still” by The Fray
> 
> Chapter warnings: I’m putting these at the beginning this time, for reasons. This chapter is pretty dark… basically lots of death and grief and pain, and it hurt like hell to write so… proceed with caution I guess…

It feels like she’s suffocating. She can’t breathe properly, like a huge hand is wrapped around her ribcage and squeezing all the air from her body. Her head is pounding, her eyes are burning and her nails are digging into her palms so hard she’s drawing blood.

None of that can distract her from the horrible emptiness that is slowly spreading to every single part of her body. It’s a void, a black hole that’s sucking away every happy memory she’s desperately trying to cling to, replacing it with a mantra of _he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone_.

She had known what was coming, of course, had tried to prepare herself, had even thought that maybe she had managed to, but… this feeling that’s washing over her, dragging her under is nothing she could have ever prepared for.

She doesn’t know how long she stays there, how long it takes for the tears to finally stop streaming down her face… at least for now. She has no doubt they’ll be back.

When she finally feels like she can actually move, she pushes herself up until she’s kneeling in bed, eyes squeezed shut. She pulls in a shaky breath before opening them.

It looks just like he’s sleeping, eyes closed, one hand stretched out as if he’s reaching for her, even now.

“I love you,” she murmurs, leaning down to press her lips to his. They’re still warm, soft, and she half-expects his arm to sneak around her waist and pull her down on top of him.

But it doesn’t, of course.

Before she can break down again, she forces herself out of bed, fumbling blindly for something to put on. What she ends up with is a pair of her own sweats and a t-shirt of Bellamy’s, which smells so much like him she has to take a moment to just breathe it in.

She pauses briefly in the doorway, a part of her desperate to turn around, drink him in one last time, but… no. This isn’t how she wants to remember him.

She finds her phone on the kitchen counter and opens the phone app, her hands shaking as she taps in the emergency number.

_“911, what’s your emergency?”_ a female voice comes over the line after a moment.

“It’s… it’s my husband,” she starts, having to swallow when her voice comes out more like a hoarse whisper. “I woke up and he wasn’t breathing and I can’t get him to wake up, I don’t know what to do.”

She feels the tears streaming again and doesn’t even try to wipe them away.

_“OK, sweetheart, just take a breath for me, alright?”_ the woman says. _“Can you do that?”_

Clarke nods, though the other woman of course can’t see that, and sucks in a couple of deep breaths.

_“Good, that’s good. Can you tell me your address?”_

She rattles off her address.

_“OK, good, I’ve got a unit on the way, alright? I want you to stay on the line with me in the meantime, though.”_

“OK.”

_“What’s your name, sweetheart?”_

“Clarke. Clarke Griffin.”

_“OK, Clarke. Do you know CPR?”_

She does, but she knows there’s no point. “No.”

_“OK, that’s fine, the ambulance is just a couple of minutes out so they’ll be there in no time.”_

“OK.”

The woman keeps talking, asking inane questions, and Clarke responds but mostly tunes her out. Soon, though, there’s a hard knock on the door and she interrupts the emergency operator in the middle of… something.

“I think they’re here now.”

_“OK, good, you hang up and go let them in then. And I hope everything works out, OK, sweetheart?”_

She knows it won’t, has known for months.

“Thank you,” she still says before ending the call.

She can’t feel her fingers as she unlocks the front door to let the paramedics in, it’s almost like she’s watching someone else. An out of body experience, like she’s standing off to the side, removed from the situation. When she finally pushes the door open, she finds a woman with warm, brown eyes.

“Are you Clarke?” she asks gently. “I’m Luna.”

Clarke just nods and steps aside. “Come in.”

Luna passes her with a small smile and then her partner, who Clarke hadn’t noticed, pushes into the apartment, bumping Clarke’s arm with his bag.

“Where’s the patient?” he asks brusquely, almost making her reel back.

“Cage,” Luna says, a warning in her voice. The man rolls his eyes and turns away.

“I’ll show you,” Clarke tells them, leading the way through the apartment to the bedroom. She stops a few feet from the door, though. She can’t go back in there. She can’t watch them try to do what she knows is impossible. “It’s… he’s in there,” she says instead, nodding at the open door.

The man – Cage – again pushes past her, while Luna squeezes her hand. “You don’t have to go in there with us,” she says, reading Clarke’s mind. “Why don’t you sit down, get a glass of water? I know this must have been a shock.”

Clarke nods, because it’s true. It doesn’t matter that she’s known it was coming for months, she still can’t wrap her mind around the fact that he’s really _gone_.

Luna squeezes her hand one more time before following her partner into the bedroom, and Clarke, not knowing what else to do, goes into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and then sits down on the couch. A meow makes her look up just as Bastet jumps onto the couch next to her, and she pulls the cat into her arms. Bas allows it for a few minutes, purring loudly, but then wriggles out of the embrace to settle next to Clarke on the couch, nose pressed against her thigh, little puffs of breath warming her skin.

She’s sort of aware of sound coming from the bedroom, can’t pick up the actual words, but enough to know they’re… doing whatever it is they’re supposed to do.

She still has no concept of time, so she doesn’t know if it’s been five minutes or half an hour when Luna comes into the room and sits down on the coffee table in front of her. Bastet gives her a suspicious look.

Clarke doesn’t want to hear the words she knows are coming, but it’s not like this won’t be real if she just refuses to listen, so she lifts her eyes to meet the warm brown gaze. If she hadn’t already known that there was no point, the expression in those eyes would have told her.

“I’m so sorry,” Luna says, taking both of Clarke’s hand in hers. “We tried everything we could, but I’m afraid we weren’t able to help him.”

Clarke swallows hard and squeezes her eyes shut. “Do you know what happened?”

“We can’t be sure, honestly, not until the… the coroner gives his report.”

Clarke winces at the word ‘coroner’, but they talked about this. She knows she can, technically, legally, refuse a post mortem, but Bellamy worried that doing that would be suspicious. Like she wanted to hide something. So even though the idea makes her stomach turn over, she’s not going to argue.

“It might be a couple of weeks, I’m sorry about that, it’s summer and the coroner’s office is understaffed and overworked, and, well, they have to prioritize. But someone will get in touch with you as soon as they’ve conducted their examination and are ready to release him to you.” Luna continues, pulling a small notebook from one of her pockets along with a pen. She writes something down and rips a page out that she hands over. “This is the number to the coroner, call them if you feel like it’s taking too long or you have any questions, OK?” Clarke nods and closes her hand around the piece of paper. “Do you know if there were any hereditary conditions in his family?”

She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. “His dad died when he was a baby, but it was a car accident. His mom had a brain aneurysm when she was… thirty-seven, I think.”

Luna hums at that. “Depending on what the underlying cause was, that could be hereditary.”

“So he didn’t… he wouldn’t have felt anything?” She knows he didn’t, of course, knows that she would have noticed if he experienced any pain at all, but she still needs the reassurance.

Luna shakes her head. “I’m sure he didn’t. You were in bed with him when it happened, right? You would have known if…”

She’s interrupted by her partner.

“Did you call it in yet?”

It’s gone in a flash, but Clarke catches the annoyed look Luna gives him over her shoulder. Her voice is still calm, though. “Why don’t you do that?”

For a moment, Clarke thinks he might object, but whatever look Luna gives him makes him mutter and pull his phone out of his pocket as he turns his back on them.

“Is this your cat?” Luna asks, pulling Clarke’s attention from Cage, and she reaches out a hand to pet Bastet, who seems to have decided that Luna is OK and has gone back to snuggling with Clarke’s leg.

“Yeah.” It feels like the word scratches its way up her throat.

“I love cats, they’re great company.”

Clarke is only half listening, distracted by Cage, who is now on the phone in the kitchen, talking much louder than should be necessary.

“Yeah, 31 year old male, DOA. No obvious physical injuries, but a standard post mortem should be done to rule out foul play. The wife seems shocked, but you never know…”

“Hey,” Luna squeezes Clarke’s hands and she turns her eyes back to her. “Don’t listen to him, OK, he’s just calling it in. It’s just procedure. Focus on me, OK? What’s your cat’s name?”

Clarke has to think for a moment before she’s able to respond. “Bastet.”

“Like the Egyptian cat goddess? That’s cool.”

“Come on, let’s roll.”

They both look up at Cage at his words and Luna frowns. “Why, did we get another call?”

He falters a little. “Well, no, but we’re done here. I called it in, the coroner will be here as soon as they can.”

Luna turns back to Clarke. “Then we can stay either until we get another call, or until they get here,” she says, voice determined, and Clarke feels a surge of fondness for the other woman.

“Fine.”

“So, you like cats?”

Luna keeps her talking, keeps her… not preoccupied, the situation is still hanging over her like a cloud that she knows will explode in thunder and lightning as soon as she’s alone again, if not before, but a sense of calm still spreads through her. _Shock_ , her brain supplies.

Then there’s another knock at the door, Cage disappears to let the coroner in, and Clarke feels her breathing start to speed up.

“Relax,” Luna tells her. “Breathe with me, OK? In… and out… in… and out.”

She does as she’s told, focusing on nothing but the movements of her lungs as they fill with air and then deflate, eyes locked with Luna’s.

“Good,” she tells her, glancing up at someone behind Clarke’s back. “Do you want a moment with him to say goodbye before…”

She’s shaking her head before Luna finishes the sentence. She doesn’t know what they did to try to revive him and she doesn’t want to know.

“That’s OK,” Luna assures her. “If you change your mind later, you can talk to the coroner’s office or the funeral home, OK?”

“OK.”

Luna hesitates for a moment. “Listen, I… I don’t usually do this, but… I’ve been where you are.” Clarke looks up at her and Luna grimaces a little. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who’s been through what you’re experiencing, you know? Even if it’s basically a stranger.”

Clarke nods, because she does know.

“So if you want, you can call me, OK?” Luna continues. “I might not answer if I’m at work, but just leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

She considers saying thanks but no thanks. She has Raven, after all, and her other friends, who she knows will be here as soon as she asks them. But… Luna is such a comforting presence, and maybe she’ll need that.

So instead, she reaches for her phone and unlocks it, opening the contacts and handing it over to Luna. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Luna puts her number in and hands the phone back. “You have a beautiful apartment, have you lived here long?”

She lets Luna distract her again, telling her about the building and the apartment, trying to ignore the noises coming from the bedroom. When the sound of a zipper carries over to them, though, she can’t help but wince, because she can see the scene in her mind and it’s almost like a physical ache.

“You’re OK,” Luna murmurs gently, hands closing around Clarke’s again.

She’s not, she’s so far from OK that she can’t even imagine ever being OK again. It feels like standing at the bottom of a hundred foot well, the sky a tiny pinprick far above her, with the prospect of climbing the sheer walls.

Another few minutes later, the sound of the front door closing makes Clarke squeeze her eyes closed, because now he’s really _gone_. He’s not even here with her anymore, in the same space, and he never will be again.

Luna holds onto her hands, murmuring quietly, nonsense mostly, until she gets her breathing under control again. When she opens her eyes, Luna is giving her an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry but we do actually have to leave,” she says, sounding like it’s her fault somehow.

“It’s OK, I understand,” Clarke assures her.

“Is there anyone we can call? Someone who can come over and keep you company?”

“No, I… I think I need to be alone for a while,” she replies, getting a concerned look. “I’ll call someone soon, I promise.”

“If you’re sure…”

Clarke follows Luna out into the hallway, where Cage is waiting, looking impatient.

“Look…” Luna starts, turning to her again. “I know this will sound… I know how it sounds, OK? And I know it won’t help you right now, believe me, but… just know that it will get better. I promise. Not tomorrow, not next week or next month or maybe not even next year. But… one day, you’ll wake up and it won’t hurt as much anymore. And then, someday, you’ll be able to remember the good times you got together with a smile. Just… know that that day is coming.”

Clarke nods, because she _does_ know, on a logical level. She knows that there will be a day when she won’t feel like this, but part of her doesn’t want that day to come, because it would feel like betraying Bellamy. Like forgetting him.

Luna offers her one last smile, and then they’re gone, leaving Clarke alone. More alone than she’s ever been in her long life.

She locks the door with numb fingers and somehow finds her way back to the couch, where she pulls her knees to her chest and leans her chin against them, staring straight ahead at the night outside the windows, eyes unfocused.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there. She might fall asleep at one point, because she closes her eyes when it’s still dark outside, and when she opens them, it’s dawn. The sun must have risen on the other side of the building but it’s not high enough to reflect off the skyscrapers across the river yet. The sky is still painted in pinks and blues and purples, and she knows that it’s going to be another beautiful summer day.

It feels like a punch in the face.

The next thing she’s actively aware of is a pair of arms wrapping around her and she gratefully leans her head against Raven’s shoulder.

“Why didn’t you call sooner?” Raven asks quietly.

“I didn’t call at all,” Clarke points out, voice raw from crying and lack of use.

“You say that like it’s better somehow. It’s not, just so you know.”

“I just…” It sounds stupid even in her own ears but she continues anyway. “I didn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the night.”

“The middle of the night?”

The confused note in Raven’s voice makes her pull away to be able to look at her friend. “What?”

“Why would you call in the middle of the night?”

“Because that’s when…” Clarke cuts herself off, can’t finish the sentence.

Raven frowns. “But… that’s not the time listed in the app when I claimed the Transfer.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to be confused. “What?”

“When I claimed the Transfer for you, it said 8:36 PM,” Raven explains.

She knows that the exact time of someone’s death can change, even if the date never does, so it’s not really that odd. Or if it is, her brain can’t process it at the moment. Maybe the higher ups, whoever they are, decided that they deserved a little more time. Once she’s gotten past the initial shock and grief, Clarke is sure she’ll be grateful for the extra three hours or so, but right now, she can’t even care. There’s still an eternity stretching out in front of her without him.

“Oh.” She pauses, thinks over the question but decides she wants to know. “What was the… COD?”

“Brain aneurysm,” Raven supplies.

It’s what she expected, honestly, and it doesn’t make her feel better or worse, so she just nods.

“Did you sleep?” Raven asks, and Clarke shrugs.

“I don’t know, maybe a little.”

Raven tuts. “OK, we’ll deal with that later. Right now, you need to eat.”

Clarke frowns at the plate of scrambled eggs and toast that has appeared on the coffee table in front of her. She didn’t even notice that Zeke was cooking, but now she can smell coffee as well.

“I’m not hungry,” she tries, already knowing it’s no use.

“I don’t care,” Raven replies, holding out the fork. “Eat.”

In a way, it’s comforting that Raven’s basically the same as always, not putting on kid gloves for her. She’s pretty sure it would be much worse to be coddled.

She does eat, mostly to get Raven off her back. She can’t taste anything, though, it just feels like chewing cardboard, and she only finishes half the eggs and one slice of toast, making Raven frown even as she moves the plate away.

Zeke joins them on the couch after that, turning on the TV, and they basically sit in silence, watching reruns of old sitcoms. Clarke keeps her eyes on the screen but doesn’t take in anything that happens. She’s not even sure what they’re watching.

Wells and Sasha join them at some point, Clarke only becoming aware of their presence when Raven’s arm moves from around her shoulders and another familiar set of arms, stronger but more gentle at the same time, wrap around her from her other side. She leans her head against Wells’ shoulder and he squeezes her tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles quietly, just for her.

She doesn’t answer, just buries her nose against his throat, breathing in the scent she’s known for so long and lets it soothe her mind just a little. Just for a moment.

It’s probably early afternoon – she was forced to eat again a little while ago – when something occurs to her.

“I have to call Octavia,” she says, making the other four turn their attention to her. “And Miller, and his grandparents, I have to tell everyone…”

“Hey, hey,” Raven cuts her off, squeezing her hand. “Miller and Octavia are first priority now, right? Miller’s in town and Octavia will want to come out as soon as possible, I know she will. The grandparents can wait for a couple of days, OK?”

Clarke manages a nod, trying to think logically, which isn’t easy when her entire brain is basically screaming. “Yeah. I know Rosamie and Danilo will want to come for…” she has to pause, clear her throat, to get the words out, “for the funeral, but they need to get visas and all that, so they won’t be able to just up and leave. Octavia can. And Richard and Linda were going out of town for a couple of weeks, I don’t want to ruin their trip.”

Which is an absurd thing to say, but it doesn’t quite feel like her mouth is connected to her brain right now.

“Then we’ll start with that, and put off everyone else for now, OK? I’ll go call Miller and Octavia.” Raven gives Zeke a meaningful look, and before she even gets up from the couch, he’s on Clarke’s other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. A moment later, Sasha sits down in the spot Raven just vacated, taking one of Clarke’s hands in hers.

“She’s got it,” Zeke assures her. “Raven and Octavia totally hit it off when we were in Vegas.”

Clarke just nods, because she’s honestly relieved to not have to do it herself. She knows that she’ll have to talk to Octavia eventually, but she’s terrified of the other woman’s initial reaction. Even if Bellamy hadn’t said anything, she would worry that his sister would blame her, and right now, her promise to not let Octavia push her away feels impossible. Maybe it’s the easy way out, letting Raven make the call, but she thinks she has every right to take it just this once.

Raven has disappeared, maybe into the guestroom, so Clarke doesn’t know what’s being said. She returns ten minutes later, wiping tears off her cheeks before slumping down next to Zeke and leaning against him.

“How’d they take it?” Clarke asks, unnecessarily, really – she knows Octavia must have been shocked and devastated.

Raven shrugs. “Not great, but what can you expect in a situation like this? Miller seemed mostly dazed, he’s probably in shock, which… yeah. I told him they were welcome here whenever if they wanted… I don’t know, company? Lincoln took the phone from Octavia after a few minutes, she was crying too much to keep talking, he promised to make sure they get on the first available flight over, so hopefully they’ll be here tomorrow.”

Clarke nods before leaning her head against Zeke’s shoulder again and pretending to watch the TV.

The day continues like that. Raven makes Clarke eat at some sort of regular intervals, even though she doesn’t manage to get much down each time, and the others start conversations now and then, but other than that, they’re just _there_ , a silent support when she needs them. Raven gets a text from Lincoln a couple of hours after she called Octavia, saying that they will be landing at JFK around one thirty tomorrow, and they arrange for Zeke to pick them up.

“OK, time for bed,” Raven announces at some point after the sun has set.

Clarke immediately tenses. “I… I don’t know if I can…”

“Zeke changed the sheets and cleaned up, it looks just like normal, OK?” Raven assures her gently, which doesn’t help one bit.

“Or you could come with us to the hotel?” Wells suggests. “I don’t know if the couch folds out, but if it doesn’t, you and Sash can share the bed and I’ll take the couch.”

“No.” Clarke shakes her head, the mere thought of leaving the apartment appalling. “I’ll just stay out here, I don’t think I can sleep anyway.”

Wells lets it go, but Raven levels her with an unimpressed look. “If you think _that’s_ a good argument, you don’t know me at all. You can sleep in the guestroom, Zeke and I can take your room. Or Zeke can take your room and you and I sleep in the guest room. Take your pick. Couch is not an option.”

“Please, Raven.”

She’s not sure what does it – her pleading voice or the desperate look in her eyes – but Raven relents for possibly the first time ever.

“OK, fine. But please, at least try to get some sleep? And yell if you need us, promise?”

“I promise,” Clarke agrees quickly.

Raven still tugs her along to the guest bathroom to brush her teeth after Wells and Sasha say goodnight and take off, but then she and Zeke disappear, leaving Clarke with only Bastet for company on the couch.

She really doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, but she does lie down, pulling the cat to her chest and wrapping both of them up in a blanket, which makes her purring reverberate through Clarke’s chest. Manhattan is a ribbon of gleaming lights across the water and she lets her eyes go unfocused, turning them into a haze.

Apparently, she falls asleep at some point, because when she wakes up, she’s tucked into the bed in the guestroom.

For a moment, she can’t understand why she’s in here and not in her own bed with Bellamy, but then the events of yesterday and the night before come crashing back and she chokes on a sob.

“Morning,” Raven’s voice comes from the doorway. “There’s breakfast.”

Clarke doesn’t even respond, just blinks at her friend, the tears turning her into a blur, but Raven, as always, stands her ground.

“We’re not doing this again, are we?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know you have to eat, you know you have to eat… why make a big deal out of it? You know I’ll get my way in the end, it’s easier for both of us if you just don’t fight it.”

Clarke sighs. “Fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The day unfolds much like yesterday. Wells and Sasha show up while they have breakfast and they all lounge on the couch. Clarke eats when someone puts food in front of her, takes a shower and then changes into a new pair of sweatpants and a fresh tank top when Raven tells her she kind of smells – after making Raven swear that she won’t throw Bellamy’s shirt in the laundry – but apart from that, she mostly stays quiet, pretending to watch whatever’s on the TV and leaning on whoever’s closest at the time. The tears come and go, her mind shifting between a black, empty void and ragged pieces of memories that feel like they’re tearing her up from the inside.

Miller and Jackson show up at some point, she’s not sure when, only becomes aware of them when Sasha’s arm disappears from around her shoulder and is replaced with another one that isn’t as familiar as the ones she’s been passed between so far.

When she looks up, Miller offers her a weak smile, eyes red. “Hey.”

She sniffles a little but tries to return the smile. “Hey.”

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, voice lost. “He was fine, he… what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke tells him. “The paramedic, she said it… it could be an aneurysm, like his mom had, but they won’t know until after the…” She chokes on the word, can’t get it out, but Miller nods, so he probably gets it anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, wrapping his other arm around her as well and Clarke buries her face against his shoulder.

“Me too.”

When Zeke leaves to pick up Octavia and Lincoln a little later, she feels the heavy grief that’s been like a blanket over her other feelings for the last day and a half being pushed aside, if only momentarily, by a nervous sense of anxiety.

“Hey, you OK?” Raven asks. “I know, stupid question, but you started…” She gestures at Clarke’s foot and she looks down, realizing that she’s started tapping it against the floor without noticing.

“Sorry,” she apologizes.

“No need. I just wanted to know what was happening.”

“What if…” Clarke starts. “What if she blames me?”

Wells frowns. “Why would she blame you?”

“I don’t know.” Clarke shrugs. “People don’t always think rationally in situations like this. I was there, what if she…”

“She won’t,” Miller cuts her off. “And if she does, I’ll talk to her, OK? I know Octavia can be a little… harsh sometimes, but I won’t let her take this out on you.”

“No, you can’t do that,” Clarke tells him. “She’s grieving, she’s in pain, if she wants to lash out at me that’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Raven says. “Yes, she’s in pain, but so are you. You both loved him and you both lost him, that doesn’t give her the right to take her grief out on you.”

Clarke wants to argue some more, but she doesn’t really have the energy, so she just shrugs.

She remains on edge until the door opens some time later and Raven pulls her up from the couch. She tries to prepare herself for whatever’s coming as they make their way through the apartment, Wells and Sasha falling behind a little, but she’s still not really prepared for getting an armful of Octavia as soon as they round the corner into the hallway.

She instinctively hugs the other woman back, burying her face in her hair and letting the tears fall, and for a long moment, the only sound in the space is their sobbing.

“What happened?” Octavia finally asks, pulling back to look at Clarke. Her eyes are red, her cheeks still wet, her voice hoarse.

Clarke takes a deep breath and wipes at her own cheeks before answering. “I don’t know,” she then says. “The paramedics said it might have been a brain aneurysm, like your mom had, but they couldn’t be sure. The… the coroner will do an examination to find out for sure, but they said it could be a couple of weeks. Priorities, I guess.”

Octavia nods slowly. “Did he… was he in pain?”

“No,” Clarke immediately replies, shaking her head. “I know it sounds like something you say to make someone feel better, but I really don’t think he felt anything. We were in bed, I thought he was asleep, I was sort of dozing off myself when I realized…” She cuts herself off, swallowing down a sob that almost escapes anyway.

“You poor thing,” Octavia surprises her by saying, pulling her back into another hug. “I can’t even imagine…”

It definitely doesn’t make everything better, but it’s still a weight off Clarke’s shoulders, to know that Octavia doesn’t blame her.

Their hug is eventually interrupted by Lincoln, who gently disentangles Octavia’s arms from around Clarke and ushers the two of them into the living room, where he gently pushes them down onto the couch.

“You need to eat something,” he says, focusing on Octavia.

She makes a face. “I’m not hungry.”

Clarke can’t help but let out a snort, bordering on a laugh, surprising both herself and the others. She quickly covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes widening – how can she _laugh_ right now? – but Octavia squeezes her hand.

“Yeah, that doesn’t work here,” Clarke says when she’s gotten over the shock. “If you don’t eat, Raven will force-feed you. And I mean that literally.”

Octavia heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I guess I could go for some Chinese food, it’s been ages since I had real New York Chinese food.”

Raven disappears, returning a moment later with some take-out menus, and within the hour, they’re all seated at the dining table, passing around cartons of food.

Clarke’s still not particularly hungry, but she does take seconds of the spring rolls, catching the brief smile of relief on Raven’s face.

She can’t say that she’s feeling better, because she’s not. The realization that Bellamy is gone, that he’ll never tease her about insisting on eating with chopstick even though she’s not very good at it, never curl up with her under a blanket on the couch, never indulge Bastet when she wants belly rubs, just hits her every now and then, and it’s like she can’t breathe for a moment.

But the afternoon is better than yesterday, and even this morning. Maybe it’s the addition of Octavia and Lincoln, Clarke’s not sure. When they’ve all finished eating and moved to the couch, Octavia hesitantly starts talking about how Bellamy used to make all of her Halloween costumes when she was little, and how she had told him she wanted to be Buttercup from _The Powerpuff Girls_ – obviously, she hadn’t even thought she needed to clarify that – one year but he thought she meant Buttercup from _The Princess Bride_ , and she had refused to leave the house when she saw the costume he made. When she stops talking, Miller takes over with a story of the first time he and Bellamy stole some of his dad’s booze and got drunk behind the high school, and how Bellamy ended up calling a local pizza place and going on a rant about how they were spelling their name wrong since it should be ‘Colosseum’ or ‘Coliseum’, maybe ‘Colosseo’ if they wanted to go Italian, but never, ever ‘Colisseum’.

The two of them continue sharing little stories like that through the afternoon, and eventually, Clarke feels like maybe she could contribute something. Tell them about the look on Bellamy’s face when he saw the view from their hotel room in Rome, or his childlike excitement at the Parthenon, or how he sat listening to his grandmother’s stories about his father, focus so intent he barely even noticed what was happening around them.

She decides against it, in the end, happy to listen to Miller’s and Octavia’s stories instead. Her and Bellamy’s stories are theirs… hers, now. She’s sure she’ll be able to, even want to, share them eventually, but not just yet.

-100-

The sun has set, the lights flickered to life across the river again. Octavia and Lincoln started talking about finding a hotel an hour or so ago, and Clarke offered to have them stay with her, but Lincoln said they didn’t want to impose on her any more than necessary. She was going to argue, but then Miller suggested they stay with him and Jackson instead, and the four of them left shortly after. Wells and Sasha headed out around the same time, and then Raven and Zeke went home too, after Clarke spent ten minutes telling Raven it made no sense for them to go one at a time – she would be fine for an hour. Just to shower and change, Raven made sure to point out, so they’re coming back soon. Probably to make sure she eats something more and goes to bed… though she doubts she’ll sleep much.

She feels numb. She knows she’s sitting on the couch, can feel the material on her bare feet. Bas is stretched out next to her, pressed against her hip only because she can’t settle in her lap when she has her knees pulled to her chest. The cat has barely left her side all day, not even running off to hide when new people showed up, even though nine is normally much more than she can handle.

When there’s a knock at the door, Clarke almost jumps, the sound harsh in the silent apartment. She turns her head in the general direction of the front door, but doesn’t have the energy to do more than that. It’s just Raven and Zeke anyway, and they have a key. She doesn’t know why they’re knocking in the first place. Maybe to get her off the couch and moving a little. She wouldn’t put it past Raven.

She drags in a ragged breath through her nose and lets it out through her mouth. Repeat.

There’s another knock, more insistent this time. Maybe Raven forgot the key at home or something. She should probably get up and let them in, they’re not just going to give up and leave, after all. And she doesn’t want them to either, so…

It takes another knock, this one longer and harder still, before she manages to get to her feet and shuffle around the kitchen to the hallway. She pulls the blanket she’s wearing like a cape closer around herself and turns the lock on the door before opening it.

And drops the blanket to the floor.

“Hey, Princess.”


	65. When Your Eyes Light up the Skies at Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for the comments on the last chapter, I know it must have been hard to read! I’m glad most of you seemed to like it (or wanted to kill me, but I figure that’s basically the same thing after that rollercoaster!). Still a lot of emotions in this one, so be aware
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Back to Me” by The All-American Rejects

Clarke’s not sure how she ended up on the floor, but she can feel the cool tile of the entryway against her bare legs. Directly in her line of vision is a pair of dark wash jeans and she quickly averts her eyes from them and the wearer.

“Shit,” a voice that isn’t his – because it can’t be his – says somewhere above her. Then, strong and oh so familiar arms – not his, _not his_ , NOT HIS – scoop her up like she weighs nothing at all.

She balls her hands into fists and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to prepare herself mentally for when she opens them again and it’s not him. Because it can’t be. She felt him die, heard the coroner take him away in a body bag, he’s gone. Dead. She repeats the word over and over in her head – dead, dead, dead, dead, dead – until she’s put down carefully on the couch. She feels it dip when whoever it is sits down next to her, their body heat warming her.

He – because she knows it’s a man, but it’s not _him_ – remains silent next to her for a long time and she can almost pretend that she’s alone again, except for the slow, even breathing a few feet from her.

She pulls her legs to her chest, wraps her arms around them and presses her forehead against her knees. It’s already dark in the room, the only light a small lamp over in the corner, and this way she ensconces herself in a black, soft blanket that shields her from the world.

Then he speaks. “Clarke… can you please look at me?”

And she knows that it can’t be his voice, but it is, even though it sounds so wrong. Did he ever call her by her name? He must have, at some point, but she can’t recall it. It was always Princess, sometimes babe or baby. She honestly can’t remember that he ever used her actual name…

“I know this must be… hard to believe,” he continues. “I can’t even imagine.”

Clarke doesn’t respond. Maybe if she just stays still and quiet, this hallucination or whatever it is will go away. She knows she hasn’t been sleeping as much as she should these last… three days, really, maybe it’s finally taking its toll and her brain is making up things, giving her what she so desperately wants.

A little voice somewhere in the back of her mind tries to tell her that there _is_ another explanation, one she hasn’t let herself hope for, not really, even though she desperately wanted it.

She pushes the voice away.

There’s a low rustling sound and then she feels a warm, tentative hand on her arm. She jerks back violently, scrambling into the corner of the couch, out of reach, shaking her head against the touch.

He sighs deeply. “Please, Princess, I don’t know what to do if you won’t even look at me.”

It’s the ‘Princess’ that does it. She carefully lifts her head to lean her cheek against her knees instead and then, slowly, opens her eyes.

And there he is. Hair messy, like he just ran his hand through it – maybe that was the noise she heard a moment ago – eyes deep, brown and warm, intent on her face, freckles dark against his skin. He’s wearing a dark blue t-shirt that could be one of his, she doesn’t really know. It looks like something he’d wear. When she meets his eyes, his mouth quirks up into a crooked smile.

“Hi there.”

Maybe it is a hallucination. Or a dream. She could have fallen asleep on the couch, lord knows she’s exhausted enough to doze off without noticing. And maybe she should just go with it, enjoy having him here for however long she’ll get him, even knowing that it’s not real, that it will end.

But she can’t. It would just hurt more when reality does catch up with her.

“This isn’t real,” she manages to get out, voice barely more than a whisper, because as convinced as she is that it’s _not_ real, she’s terrified of doing something that makes it end.

His face falls at her words. “I was afraid you might say that.”

“You’re dead. You… I was… I _felt_ you die, I saw…”

She can’t complete the sentence, tears spilling down her cheeks again, distorting his face, and her voice catches in her throat.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry.” He reaches for her again and this time she doesn’t have it in her to resist, so she lets him pull her into his lap.

She can’t help but melt into him, because it’s like coming _home_. His arms immediately go around her, holding her to him just a little too tightly but she’s not going to argue. He brushes a kiss against her temple, lips soft and warm like she remembers, before tucking her head under his chin and against his chest. His free hand is trailing up and down her back in soothing motions as she falls apart completely, her entire body shaking with her sobs.

Eventually, as she’s learned over the last two days, the tears run out. They’ll be back later, perhaps when this delusion fades or she wakes up.

She pulls back a little, wiping the moisture off her face before hesitantly lifting her eyes to his again.

It’s getting harder to tell herself that it’s _not_ him, because it is. It’s her Bellamy – not just the way he looks, but his voice, his touch, his smell. Even the little wrinkle between his eyebrows as she studies him is so _him_.

_See?_ The little voice is back, despite her best efforts. _You know it’s not impossible._

But she’s still not ready to actually believe. It feels like a trick, a prank, like someone’s going to jump out and laugh at her if she actually does let herself believe.

“Are you a ghost?” she asks instead, pushing the other possibility away firmly, and he huffs a laugh.

“What gave it away, the see-throughness or the incorporealism?” Her instant reaction is to elbow him in the ribs, so she does. “Hey!”

“I’ve never seen a ghost, how would I know what they look like?” She moves out of his lap and back onto the couch. He raises one hand a little, as if wanting to pull her back to him, but she needs to be able to think, and she can’t do that when he’s so close. “OK, probably not a ghost. That really leaves two options – I’m dreaming, or I snapped and I’m locked in a psych ward somewhere, hallucinating.”

He rolls his eyes. “You haven’t gone crazy. And…”

He doesn’t complete the sentence, instead leans forward to pinch her arm. Hard.

“Ow!” she complains, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

“To prove you’re not dreaming,” he replies with a shrug, which, OK, makes sense. “I figured it would be the most efficient way to prove it to you.”

“OK, so I’m not dreaming, you’re not a ghost and I’m not hallucinating… according to you, though that’s exactly what I would expect you to say if I _were_ hallucinating, so it’s not really conclusive evidence.”

He snorts. “God, I thought you if anyone would figure it out, but if I knew you’d be this hard to convince, I would have asked them for some sort of proof.”

“Them? Them who?”

He doesn’t answer her question, instead shifts so he’s facing her directly on the couch. “Look at me, Princess. What’s different?”

She frowns at the question, unsure of how he expects this to convince her he’s not a mirage or something, but does as he asks.

There’s nothing. He looks just like he did the last time she saw him, before… she pushes the memory away.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?” she finally asks.

He just raises his eyebrows and brings a hand to his face, pushing his hair away from his forehead.

“See? No Number.”

He’s right, of course. But then again, his Number was gone the moment his heart stopped beating. It had faded when she’d been able to look at him, when she’d left him in the bedroom…

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you die,” she says, trying and, she thinks, succeeding in preventing her voice from breaking. The little voice in the back of her mind is trying desperately to get her attention, but she’s ignoring it.

It puts the theory that she’s dreaming to rest, though. She’s dreamt about Bellamy several times over the last eight months, but even in her dreams, he always had a Number.

“Yes, but there are other reasons to not have a Number as well,” he pushes. “You don’t have one.”

She just stares at him for a long moment, the little voice inside her jubilant as she finally lets the possibility settle, thinks about it. “You’re… a Soul Keeper?”

“Bingo.”

She buries her face in her hands, pushing her palms against her closed eyelids. The tiredness that’s been there all day is clouding her mind a little and it would be so easy to just believe him.

After all, this is what she hoped, prayed would happen, somewhere deep down, even as she didn’t dare to. But she never actually thought it would.

She wonders if this is how Bellamy felt when she first told him about Soul Keepers, though there’s this desperate need deep in her soul, she _wants_ so badly to believe him, that probably wasn’t there for him.

“What. The actual. Fuck?”

Clarke looks up at the words to find Raven and Zeke by the kitchen counter, both standing frozen and staring at them. Oh good. Impartial outsiders.

“Thank God!” Bellamy exclaims. “You can help me prove that I’m actually here and that she’s not just imagining me.”

For another moment, they both just stare, then Raven crosses the room and pokes Bellamy experimentally in the shoulder. He raises an eyebrow at her as if asking what she’s doing.

“Oh my God,” she chokes out, and it’s the first time Clarke’s seen her really affected in the last two days. Then she practically throws herself into Bellamy’s lap, hugging him tightly. “I can’t believe it.”

He chuckles a little, hugging her back. Zeke, in the meantime, has sat down on Clarke’s other side and now reaches out to take her hand. “You OK?” he asks quietly and she lets out a sound somewhere between a sob and a snort.

“I have no idea,” she admits. “I honestly still think I’m dreaming or something.”

“I don’t blame you,” Raven says and Clarke looks up to see that she’s moved so she’s sitting next to Bellamy instead of on top of him. “What the hell happened?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Honestly, it’s already getting a little fuzzy. I don’t remember…” He pauses and reaches out to take Clarke’s hand and she knows what he’s about to say before he says it. “I don’t remember dying. I remember going to bed, dozing off, and then I… I woke up in this… room, I guess? I don’t know, it was sort of fuzzy, or maybe that’s just the memory, I have no idea. There was a man there, I know that much, though I don’t know if I ever really saw him or if it was just a… presence of some sort. I can’t remember what he looked like anyway. He basically told me that I had a choice – I could move on, to whatever’s next, or I could go back.”

Silence falls over the room as the other three contemplate his words. Eventually, Clarke looks up, finding Bellamy’s eyes already on her. “And you came back,” she murmurs, feeling the tears rising in her eyes again.

He squeezes her hand. “Of course I came back. If we had forever…”

He leaves the phrase hanging between them, and Clarke will probably never know what it is that finally does it, but in that moment, she just _knows_. She tries to swallow down a sob, only partly succeeding, and wraps her arms around him. She feels him let out a sigh against her hair before he once again pulls her into his lap, arms tight around her.

To Raven’s credit, she does give them a long moment before she clears her throat.

“I get that this is a lot, guys,” she says. “And we’ll get out of your hair soon but I just… I don’t get it. Even if this is how all Keepers are recruited, or whatever, the rest of us don’t get to keep our memories.”

Clarke tries to move back, but Bellamy’s arms just tighten around her so instead she shifts so she can lean her head against his shoulder. She does want to hear this too.

“I wish I could explain,” he says. “I just… I don’t know. This guy, whoever he was, he said I could go back and since I know none of you have any memory of your old lives, I asked about it. Said I didn’t want to go back just to go back, if they were going to wipe my memories or whatever. I would go back to Clarke. He didn’t exactly sound surprised, even said that he had been expecting that, and that even if it wasn’t standard procedure or whatever, they could make it happen.”

It’s quiet for another moment before Zeke speaks up. “Just like that?”

Clarke feels Bellamy shrug. “There might have been more, but that’s all I remember. And even that’s getting fuzzier and fuzzier, I might forget it completely soon, I have no idea.”

She presses her nose against his throat, breathing in the familiar scent that she knew she’d never get to experience again just a little while ago. “They let you remember.”

His lips press against her forehead. “I wouldn’t let them make me forget.”

Raven lets out an annoyed breath, something Clarke recognizes from when she can’t figure out a problem. “This is just… I can’t wrap my mind around it.”

That makes two of us, Clarke thinks.

“I mean, it’s not _that_ out there,” Zeke objects, making the others turn to look at him. “All I’m saying is that we knew this was how it worked. Soul Keepers.”

Clarke’s pretty sure the confused expression on Raven’s face is mirrored on her own.

“We did?” Raven is the one to finally ask.

Zeke looks between them, expression turning confused. “Well, yeah… right? Or, I mean, we knew it _could_ happen.”

“What?” Clarke ask, feeling her throat protest against the loud exclamation.

“Yeah, babe, you’re going to have to explain yourself,” Raven adds.

“Come on,” Zeke says, running a hand over his face. “We _know_ that this is how it works.”

“You keep saying that, but _I_ definitely didn’t,” Clarke tells him.

“But…” He looks at a loss for a moment. “You guys know Diyoza, right?”

Clarke has to think for a moment, and Raven beats her to it. “Charmaine? You’re old friend?”

Right. Clarke has only met her once or twice, but she remembers the woman.

“Exactly.” He sighs. “I was so sure you guys knew about this, but I guess not… so, back in… the early seventies, maybe? I don’t remember exactly. Before I met you, I know that. Anyway, she dated this Norm, I can’t remember his name. It never really got very serious, partly because he only had five or six years left to live. They broke up after a few months and I think she basically forgot about him, but then she ran into him, like, a decade later or something. I was with her, it was at a monthly meeting for Keepers in Miami in 1985. So she ran into this guy, I remember she looked like she’d seen a ghost… at first, she figured it was just someone who looked like him, you know, but then she talked to him and found out he’d only been a Keeper for a few years, and the dates lined up perfectly with when the guy she knew was supposed to die. He had the same name, even had a tattoo Diyoza remembered… but, unlike you, he had no memory of his past life.”

They all try to take in that information for a while, and then Raven reaches across Clarke and Bellamy to smack Zeke in the shoulder. “And you couldn’t have mentioned this, oh I don’t know, at _some point_ over the last eight months?”

Zeke rubs his shoulder. “Ow. Like I said, I thought you guys knew.” He glances at Clarke. “Besides, I didn’t want to say anything and get your hopes up and then…”

She understands that, and she’s grateful, really. The last two days have been hell, but she can’t even imagine what it would have been like if she had actually been hoping Bellamy would come back, maybe even believing that it would happen, and then he didn’t…

“I get it,” she assures Zeke and he offers her a quick smile.

“OK, fine, I get it too,” Raven admits.

“I think…” Bellamy starts, letting out an annoyed huff. “I think this guy said something about that, actually. Not… the memory part. That they’ve been having trouble recruiting for a while, with the whole social media generation.”

Clarke thinks it over for a moment. “I guess that makes sense,” she then says. “I mean, like ninety-five percent of all Keepers are between… what do you think, twenty-five and forty-five?”

Raven nods thoughtfully, picking up on her reasoning. “Yeah, sounds about right. And these days, most people in that age range has a pretty big social media presence. Even if you’re relocated to the other side of the country or even the world, there’s still the internet.”

“So maybe they’re reevaluating their memory loss stance,” Zeke suggests with a shrug. “Maybe Bellamy’s the first in a new generation of Keepers or something.”

Bellamy lets out a low chuckle that Clarke feels reverberating through his chest, which makes a warmth settle in her own. He’s here. Somehow, against all odds, she actually got him back.

“And here I wanted to think I was special.”

She pulls away enough to be able to smile up at him. “Don’t worry, you’re still special to us.”

The smile on his face is her favorite Bellamy smile – soft and warm and only for her. “Good to know,” he says before leaning in to kiss her.

Raven clears her throat. “OK, like I said, we’ll leave you alone soon, but I think we still need to talk logistics.”

Clarke forces herself to pull her attention from Bellamy to Raven. “Logistics?”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “Do you have a mentor?”

Bellamy frowns at the question. “I have no idea, how would I know that?”

“I woke up in Raven’s house,” Clarke supplies. “So that was a pretty good indicator. Plus, she knew she was supposed to be my mentor, so that helped.”

“Well, I… I didn’t wake up, I don’t think, but they sort of… zapped me, maybe, into the hallway outside,” he explains. “Straight from that weird room or whatever it was, I think.”

“Huh,” Zeke says. “So by that reasoning, I guess Clarke would be your mentor. I’m assuming you didn’t get the assignment?”

Clarke immediately shakes her head. “No, definitely not. And I… I was checking, I couldn’t admit to myself that that’s what I was looking for, but I checked my email all the time, in case I did get something like that.”

Her voice is shaking a little at the end and Bellamy’s arms tighten around her, reminding her that he’s there.

“Maybe check now?” Raven suggests, handing Clarke her phone.

She opens her email, but there are only some messages about sales and one ad for knock-off Viagra. “Nothing.”

“OK, well, as long as another Keeper doesn’t show up and claims the assignment, I say we assume it’s yours,” Raven concludes. “Next – where are you?”

Bellamy just stares at her for a long moment before looking down at himself. “Um, here?”

Raven lets out an annoyed huff. “No, not…” She glances at Clarke, and she realizes what’s coming a second before she says it. “You didn’t wake up in a… I don’t know, a fridge in the coroner’s office, so is your body still there?”

He pales a little at the question and it’s Clarke’s turn to squeeze him. “Fuck, I have no idea,” he says, releasing his grip on her to run a hand through his hair. “I mean, the options are basically… what, cloning or teleporting? Can they _do_ that?”

Zeke snorts a laugh. “Honestly, we have no idea what they can do.”

Clarke turns the words over in her head for a long moment before she actually speaks, because she really doesn’t want to do it. She actively does _not_ want to do it. But maybe she has to. “I can… I can probably find out pretty easily.”

Raven’s on the same page. “Call the coroner’s office.”

Clarke frowns at the empty table in front of them. She remembers Luna giving her the number, but she has no idea where it’s gone in the last two days. “I have the number somewhere, but I…”

Raven holds out a piece of paper. “You had it in your hand when we got here, I figured I’d keep it safe for you.”

Clarke flashes her a grateful smile and hesitantly takes the piece of paper, turning it over in her hand. It’s just a phone call. She can make a phone call to the coroner to try to clear this up, especially when she has Bellamy here, next to her and _real_.

“I’ll call,” Zeke offers, gently taking the paper from her again, and she offers him a grateful smile.

He doesn’t leave the room, though, just pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials.

“Hi, my name’s Miles Shaw, I’m calling on behalf of my friend, Clarke Griffin. I know it’s late, and you’re probably busy, but she’s obviously going through a difficult time…”

He pauses, apparently listening to whoever’s on the other end, and Clarke burrows closer to Bellamy, needing the physical comfort he can offer.

“Bellamy Blake,” Zeke says and then listens again. “Are you sure? This is the number she was given… well, how long would it take for his case to get logged in the system? Right. And could they have taken him somewhere else? No, I understand, sorry to have taken up your time.” He hangs up, a frown on his face as he looks up at the other three. “So you’re not in the system. At all. She didn’t actually do a physical check, but she assured me that all cases are logged into the system as soon as they arrive, so… I don’t know.”

Raven isn’t frowning, but she does have a focused look on her face that Clarke knows only too well. “And you asked if they could have taken him somewhere else?”

“Yeah, she said the whole state has the same system, so she would have found the case on the computer, just listed under another coroner’s office. So that’s not it.”

Bellamy’s looking between them. “So, what, we’re thinking… teleporting?”

Raven throws up her arms. “I… I don’t know.”

“I could…” Clarke starts, pausing to swallow before continuing. “I could call Luna, she might know what could have happened.”

“Luna?” Bellamy asks quietly, pulling her closer, sensing her discomfort even without her having to say anything.

“One of the paramedics,” she explains, focusing on a loose thread in the blanket that’s still wrapped around her. “She was… nice. She sat and talked with me, stayed until… she gave me her number, said I could call her if I wanted to talk. I think she… she said she’d been there, so…”

Bellamy’s arms are almost painfully tight around her when she finishes talking, but she welcomes it.

“So, yeah, I can call her.”

Raven looks a little hesitant, but this isn’t a call that someone else can make, so she doesn’t object as Clarke unlocks her phone, her hands only shaking a little.

“I’m here, OK?” Bellamy murmurs in her ear, and she takes a deep breath.

_“Hello?”_

“Hi, Luna?”

_“Yes, who’s this?”_

“Clarke. Clarke Griffin. You said I could call you if I needed to talk?”

Her voice goes up at the end, making the sentence into a question.

The line is quiet for a moment. _“I’m sorry, when did I say that? I believe you, I just… I don’t give my number to a lot of people, it’s odd that I don’t remember you.”_

Clarke tries to wrap her mind around what this could mean. It happened, she knows it happened, she has the memories and so do Raven and Zeke. But…

“It was two nights ago, a little after midnight, I think, you… you responded to my nine-one-one call, my husband…” She pulls in a shaky breath, takes a moment to focus on Bellamy’s arms around her. “I still don’t know what happened but he… he died. You stayed with me until someone from the coroner’s office came and gave me your number…”

There’s some rustling on the other end and then Luna’s voice comes back. _“That would be the night between the twenty-seventh and the twenty-eight?”_

“Yes,” Clarke confirms.

_“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you, we didn’t have a call like that that night. Are you sure… I don’t know why someone else would give you my number, but that’s the only explanation I can think of.”_

It’s not impossible, of course, but Clarke knows Luna’s voice, even over the phone. “Maybe. I’m sorry to bother you.”

_“No, no, that’s OK. You said you wanted to talk? I’m leaving for my shift in fifteen minutes, but we can talk until then, if you want?”_

“No, I shouldn’t keep you. I was just… but a friend of mine just got here so I’ll be fine.”

_“If you’re sure. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”_

“Not your fault.”

She hangs up the phone and puts it down on the table.

“Come on, what did she say?” Raven asks impatiently.

“She didn’t remember me at all,” Clarke replies, still not quite believing it. “They didn’t have a call like that on that night… that’s not possible, right?”

“So on top of teleporting, we’re talking memory alterations?” Zeke pipes in.

“And we’re, what, shocked by that idea?” Raven asks. “That’s what they did to all of us, right?”

It’s true, of course, but still… “This is selective, though,” Clarke says. “They’re not just wiping someone’s whole life, it’s… one specific event.”

“Which we still remember.” Raven gets up and starts pacing, a sure sign she’s annoyed she can’t figure out what’s happening. “And judging by the woman at the coroner’s office, they altered the records in the system too.”

Bellamy’s been quiet so far, and when Clarke looks up at him, his eyebrows are furrowed. “It’s been two days?” he asks, voice breaking a little on the question.

She nods. “Yeah, almost.”

“Fuck, I thought…” He runs a hand over his face. “I thought it was the same night, not… I mean, I didn’t have any sense of time when I was in that place, but I didn’t think it had been more than a couple of hours at most.”

“OK, I appreciate that this is hard on you, but we need to figure this out,” Raven says. “I’m calling Wells.”

“Why would Wells have any better idea of what’s happening than the rest of you?” Bellamy wonders.

“I think she just wants to know if he remembers or not,” Clarke explains.

“Exactly,” Raven confirms. “Yeah, hi. So you remember the last two days, right? No, I’m not drunk. Just tell me what’s been happening.” She listens for a minute or so and then nods. “He remembers. No, I was talking to the others. Well, you see, when Zeke and I got back a while ago, Bellamy was here. No, I’m not joking, that would be a horrible joke…” She sighs and holds out the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

Bellamy takes the phone. “Hey, Wells.”

Clarke’s close enough to hear both sides of the conversation and has to smile at how obviously happy Wells is. She knew he and Bellamy had become friends, but it’s still nice to have confirmed.

When he’s talked to Wells for a few minutes, repeated the story he’s already told the rest of them, Bellamy hands the phone back to Raven. “See? I told you I wasn’t joking…” She leaves the room, probably so Clarke won’t have to listen to her and Wells theorizing about what’s happened with Bellamy’s body, and when she comes back a few minutes later, she’s frowning. “Yeah, he doesn’t have any explanation either. But at least we know the lack of memory loss isn’t limited to just us.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment and then she looks at Clarke. “Shit!”

Both Zeke and Bellamy look alarmed. “What?”

“Can we call Miller?” Clarke asks, picking up on what Raven must have just realized. “I don’t want to wake up Octavia if she’s finally asleep, but…”

“Octavia?” Bellamy exclaims. “You’ve told her?”

“Of course I told her!” Clarke pauses. “Well, Raven did.”

“We’ve already established that none of us thought this was going to happen,” Raven reasons. “So it’s not like we could have waited, you know.”

He sighs. “I know, but still… who else?”

“Just Miller and Jackson,” Clarke says. “So it could be worse.”

“How the fuck are we going to explain this to them?” he asks, his head falling back against the couch. “You barely believed me and you know about the whole Soul Keeper thing, they’re just…”

“They’ll probably think we’re pulling some sick prank on them,” she finishes.

“Maybe they don’t remember,” Zeke offers, half optimistic. “Maybe it’s a Keeper thing.”

“I’m not sure that would be better,” Raven says. “I mean, for one, they’d have to have also planted false memories to explain why Octavia and Lincoln are here, plus you two would have to… fake your own deaths or something once you’re relocated.”

“Fuck.” Bellamy sighs. “Honestly, I don’t know what would be worse.”

“Fake death,” Clarke says immediately. “You didn’t see them, they’re going to be so happy, even if they do think it was some stupid prank. And we can explain, right? I made you believe me.”

He still looks a little hesitant. “I guess we might have to, because if they do remember, we’re not faking my funeral or something like that.”

“Definitely not. And even if they don’t remember, I vote for telling them eventually. I’ve never actually had to fake my own death, but it does not sound fun.”

“What time is it?” he asks, turning to Raven.

She checks her phone. “Nine forty-five. Normally, I’d say it’s not too late to call, but it’s been two shitty days, they’re probably asleep.”

Bellamy considers for a moment. “Call him anyway. Not… if he does remember, we can’t tell him over the phone, so just… make something up. I’m pretty sure you’ll know if he’s forgotten.”

“True.” She taps at her phone a couple of times and then raises it to her ear. “Hey, sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you guys up? Yeah, I know. Listen, I know we said come over whenever tomorrow, but I slipped some sleeping pills in Clarke’s food and I’m hoping they’ll knock her out for at least twelve hours. I’m guessing you guys need sleep too, so how about you come over around one tomorrow? No, no need to bring anything, we can get lunch delivered or something. OK, good. See you then, night.”

“They remember,” Bellamy says when she’s hung up.

“Yeah. So we’ve got some ‘splaining to do tomorrow.”

Something Raven just said is stuck in Clarke’s brain and she watches her friend closely for a moment, until it slots into place.

“Did you actually slip me sleeping pills?” she asks.

Raven meets her eyes without even flinching, just raising her eyebrows. “You needed to sleep.”

“Seriously? That wasn’t your call to make.” Clarke tries to look disapproving but probably fails since she can’t suppress a huge yawn.

“Looks like you still need sleep,” Bellamy notes, rubbing her arm and turning to Raven and Zeke. “Why don’t you guys come back tomorrow morning and we’ll figure out how to do this?”

“Yeah, good plan,” Zeke agrees. “We’ll have a look at home, see what we might be able to use to explain.”

Clarke reluctantly gets up out of Bellamy’s lap, but doesn’t let go of him, pulling him to his feet with her. “I have some photos, but you have a lot more, right?”

Raven nods. “Yeah, we’ll bring them.”

“OK.” She yawns again, not even trying to hold it back this time, and feels Bellamy tug her around the coffee table. “I’m still not happy about the sleeping pills, by the way,” she adds, but nobody seems to pay her any mind.

“Lock up after yourselves and we’ll see you tomorrow?” Bellamy just says, looking from Raven to Zeke.

“We will,” Zeke assures him. “Night.”

Clarke thinks she should object, walk them to the door, but Bellamy’s behind her, hands on her shoulders, sort of nudging her along in the direction of the bedroom and, honestly, she’s so tired, the emotional rollercoaster catching up with her. So she just waves over her shoulder. “Night.”

They hear the front door open and close a moment later, and then he opens the bedroom door, and she freezes.

“What’s wrong?”

She squeezes his hand and takes a deep breath. “I haven’t been in there since…”

“Oh, shit, sorry, I should have thought about that.” Bellamy comes around so they’re face to face. “Do you want to sleep in the guest room?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I just… I knew if I went in there I’d just… I’d see you, and I couldn’t, it was too much. But you’re here.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods decisively. “Yes. I love my bedroom, I don’t want it to become a place I can’t go because of bad memories. There are so many more good memories in there, and we can make more.”

His mouth quirks up on one side. “That’s the plan.”

He holds onto her hands as he backs into the room and Clarke forces her eyes to stay open.

The image she’s dreading never comes, maybe because she has the real Bellamy, alive and smiling, right in front of her. She lets out a breath.

“OK?”

“Yeah.”

They don’t bother brushing their teeth, just crawl under the comforter, curling around each other in the middle of the bed.

“I’m still kind of scared this is a dream and I’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll still be gone,” Clarke whispers after a long moment, shifting a little so her ear is right above his heart, letting the reassuring thumps calm her mind.

“Sorry, you’re stuck with me now.”

“Oh, no.”

He chuckles, and then yelps a little when Bastet jumps onto the bed and lands on his feet. “Hey, I was wondering where you were hiding.”

She stands completely still for a long moment and then carefully pads up the bed next to him. She sniffs his hair and face for a moment and then throws herself down on her back and starts purring.

“I guess she’s glad you’re back too.”

“That makes three of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think a lot of you figured out what was going to happen (or hoped, anyway) over the last few chapters, or even earlier, so I guess I wasn’t as sneaky as I was hoping!
> 
> Also, I hope Clarke didn’t come off as protesting too much in this chapter – I just figure she had been too scared to think this would even happen so she just can’t trust her own eyes at first


	66. Stay Where the Sun Makes Darkness Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I had posted this last night, but apparently I forgot to click the final Post button, so let's try again! The plan for the rest of the fic is to post twice a week – there aren’t that many chapters left, after all (how did that happen???)!! But as usual, we’ll see how that goes…
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings
> 
> Chapter title from “A Broken Heart Still Beats” by The Rigs

For a moment after she wakes up, Clarke keeps her eyes closed and lets the dream linger. Bellamy came back to her, he’s lying next to her in bed and she could reach out for him if she wanted to. She’s not facing the rest of however long she decides her life is going to be with a gaping hole in her chest.

“Morning.”

She was already just lying there, not moving at all, but the sleep-rumpled voice from her left still makes her freeze completely. A moment later, a warm arm wraps around her waist, pulling her against a broad, firm chest and she’s surrounded by Bellamy’s familiar scent.

She doesn’t realize that she’s started crying until he pulls away, a gentle finger under her chin to tilt her head up.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, reaching out to wipe away a few tears.

Clarke sucks in a ragged breath before speaking. “I thought it was a dream.”

Realization dawns on his face and he pulls her in again, rubbing soothing circles against her back.

“It’s not, I promise,” he murmurs, mouth right by her ear, breath hot against her skin. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, OK? I’ll never leave you again.”

Her gut instinct is to argue that he can’t promise that, but… he actually sort of can. Yes, things could happen that lead to them parting ways, but at this exact moment, that feels completely impossible. She knows what it feels like to not have Bellamy in her life now, she’s never going to let him go again.

She lets his mumbled words and proximity calm her mind for another moment before moving back enough so she can kiss him. His breath is a little stale, and she knows hers must be too, but he returns the kiss anyway, the hand on her back sliding down to settle on the strip of skin between her tank top and sweatpants, which she apparently never took off last night.

When she rolls onto her back and tries to pull him on top of her, though, he holds back.

“Hey, slow down,” he tells her, kissing her nose and then her forehead. “You were crying, like, thirty seconds ago.”

Clarke takes the opportunity to get her pants off, kicking them out from under the comforter. “I’m fine now, though.”

“We still don’t have to rush,” he insists, smiling down at her and reaching out to tuck some hair behind her ear.

She forces herself to look away from him, despite the small but still present fear that he’ll disappear if she lets him out of her sight, staring out the large windows for a moment. It’s already light out, mid-morning judging by the way the sunlight is reflecting off the buildings on Manhattan, so they must have slept for close to twelve hours.

“Do you…” she starts, but cuts herself off. Even with him here, next to her in bed, arms around her, it’s hard to say it out loud. “You get that you _died_ , right? You were gone, and I… I was never going to see you again.”

Tears have risen in her eyes again but she still turns back to him, finding a small frown on his face.

“I don’t get it,” Bellamy admits. “I don’t think I _can_ , not without… but I do understand that you would feel like we have to… make use of our time together, make it count. But the thing is – we _don’t_. We literally have all the time in the world.”

He’s right. She knows he’s right, and still…

“Maybe I just really want to get laid,” Clarke says, only half-joking, and he laughs, like she hoped he would.

“You will,” he assures her, leaning in for another kiss. “But I, for one, love lazy morning sex, so I’m going to take my time.”

She could object, could probably even get him on the same page as her, but… he’s kissing her again, slow and deep, his thumb rubbing against her hip, and, yeah, she can wait a little.

As far as make-out sessions go, it’s definitely the most chaste they’ve ever been. Their only points of contacts are their mouths, which move together lazily, Bellamy’s hand on her waist, mostly on top of her clothes, and her fingers wrapped around his forearm. Still, it’s a kind of nice they haven’t really explored before, and by the time he finally breaks away to kiss down her throat, she feels like she’s melted into the mattress, whole body turned to liquid.

His hand starts exploring a little more too, sliding up her side and pulling her tank top with it. Apparently, though she doesn’t really remember doing it, she must have gotten rid of her bra last night, because soon, his thumb grazes the underside of her breast, making her gasp.

Apparently, that’s the final drop for him, because he groans and finally – _finally_ – rolls on top of her, his weight pushing her into the bed. He nudges her top up over her breast, so he can cover it with his hand instead, and she arches against him.

“Fuck, I was going to take this slow,” he mumbles against her collar bone.

“That _was_ slow,” Clarke points out, tugging a little on his hair to get him to kiss her. “If you’d been going any slower, you’d be putting my clothes back on.”

He laughs before claiming her lips again, and she can finally really get her hands on him, letting her fingers trail up his back under the t-shirt, tracing his spine, mapping the muscles she already knows so well. When she slides her hands around and down his stomach, his hips snap against her and she hooks one leg around his to keep him close.

Bellamy shifts away from her to pull his shirt off and she gets rid of her top at the same time, and then he’s back looming over her, tugging her panties down her legs. When he leans down to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, though, she lets out an exasperated whine that makes him give her an amused look.

“Later,” she tells him impatiently. “Please, I need…”

The smile turns soft and he nods, pushing his boxers off and rolling on top of her again. She pulls him in for a kiss, and then he’s sliding in, filling her up so perfectly, and she has to swallow down a sob at the thought that she might never have gotten this again.

“OK?” he mumbles against her lips, picking up on her emotions, of course.

“Perfect,” Clarke replies, pushing against him to get him to start moving, and he takes the hint.

They’ve had their fair share of morning sex over the last eight months, and it’s not _better_ , exactly, but it’s still _more_ , somehow. She knows, logically, that it’s only been a little over two days since they slept together last, and they’ve gone longer than that without sex before, but… she literally got him back from the dead, and maybe she’s still coming down from some sort of adrenaline high from last night. Either way, it feels like every single one of her nerve endings are exposed, like the briefest touch, even just Bellamy’s fingers brushing her arm, his forehead pressed against hers, make fireworks explode in her veins.

Her orgasm surprises both of them, washing over her from nowhere when he slides one hand under her hips to change the angle just slightly, twirls her nipple between his fingers and bites her shoulder lightly.

Clarke has to squeeze her eyes closed against the intense feelings, her fingers digging into his back, probably leaving marks. Not that he seems to mind – he abandons her shoulder to kiss up her throat to her lips, and she immediately opens for him, the kiss deep and dirty right from the start.

She’s just starting to come down, her muscles still fluttering slightly, when he slides a hand between them and starts rubbing unrelenting circles against her clit with his thumb, dragging it out, on and on, for what feels like hours.

When he finally does let her float down to earth, she’s completely spent, her body feeling like it weighs about a ton.

Bellamy smiles when she opens her eyes and leans in to brush his nose against hers, their lips a fraction of an inch apart. “Good?”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” she tells him, still breathless, and he chuckles and kisses her again.

His thrusts are still slow and deep, reverberating through her entire body, as if he’s happy to keep this up forever. And it’s not like she would mind, but on the other hand…

She entertains the thought of flipping them so she’s on top for about half a second but discards it since she’s not entirely sure she’d be able to do much more than collapse on top of him. Instead, she wraps her legs around him, pulling him deeper and earning a groan that she swallows.

He does pick up the pace, though, like she hoped he would, and it’s not long before he’s chasing his own release, movements turning sloppy. Clarke slides her hands down his back, letting her nails scrape against his skin on the way back up, and that’s all it takes – he comes groaning her name against her neck and stills above her.

She tightens her grip on him, pulling him down completely on top of her, and he allows it for a few minutes before rolling onto his back and taking her with him.

“I thought we were doing lazy morning sex?” he notes, still a little breathless.

She presses a kiss to his chest, right above his heart, which is still beating a little faster than normal, before propping herself up on one elbow. “We did. And then we didn’t.”

Bellamy shakes his head, but he’s smiling up at her. “What time is it?”

She sighs, annoyed at his reminder that they can’t just stay in bed all day. “Almost ten,” she says after checking the clock on the bedside table.

“We didn’t say when Raven and Zeke were coming over, did we?” he asks.

“Nope,” she agrees, grudgingly rolling off him to reach for her phone, which is not in its usual spot. “But everyone else is coming over at one, so they’ll probably show up soon. Any idea where my phone is?”

He frowns at her for a moment. “You used it in the living room last night and I didn’t bring it in here, so unless you did, I assume it’s still on the coffee table.”

Clarke groans but pushes herself out of bed and goes into the closet to find something to wear.

When she comes back into the bedroom, Bellamy’s still lying in the same position, sprawled completely naked over most of the bed. “You’re just going to watch me like a creep?” she asks amusedly and he stretches, interlacing his fingers behind his head.

“Yup.”

She shakes her head and tries her best to ignore him as she gets dressed. When she’s done, she goes back into the closet to find something for him as well, throwing a t-shirt, some boxers and a pair of sweatpants at him. “I can’t get back in bed so you’re not allowed to lie there and be all tempting.”

He laughs but does get up and is pulling the t-shirt on when she turns her back on him to go in search of her phone.

Like he said, it’s still on the coffee table, and she finds a couple of texts from Raven when she unlocks it, the first one from almost half an hour ago.

_HEADS UP – leaving now, U might want  
to get dressed_

The second one arrived five minutes ago.

_Srsly, just got off the subway – GET UP!!_

A third text arrives as she looks at the screen.

_Downstairs, last chance_

Footsteps announce Bellamy’s presence and a moment later, his arms slide around her waist from behind. “Do you know where _my_ phone is? I’m assuming the battery’s…” He cuts himself off, and Clarke feels an unpleasant lurch in her stomach.

She’s sure they’ll get to a point when the mere mention of the word ‘dead’ won’t be like this, but it’s probably going to take a while.

“No, but Raven’ll be here in a minute, she should know.”

He tightens his hold on her and buries his nose in her hair. “OK. Love you.”

“Mmm, love you.” She twists around for a kiss and then reluctantly pulls away when there’s an impatient knock on the door.

“Oh,” Raven says with a frown, hand raised, when she opens the door. “You’re up.”

Clarke rolls her eyes but steps aside to let them in. “It’s almost like you told us you were on your way.”

Raven breezes past, followed by Zeke, who at least shoots Clarke a half-apologetic smile.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t respond, so I figured you were busy,” Raven replies.

Clarke sees no reason to confirm her suspicions, so she just shrugs. “Didn’t hear my phone, I left it out here last night.”

Raven gives her a scrutinizing look, as if expecting her to crack under the pressure and admit to… what, exactly? Fucking her husband who was literally dead for two days? Clarke just returns the look placidly, and eventually, Raven huffs and turns around.

“We brought breakfast burritos,” she calls over her shoulder. “And we should try to figure out how to deal with the Norms, so chop chop.”

Zeke sighs. “Sorry about her, you know how she gets when she’s on a mission.”

“I do know, and it’s not like she’s wrong,” Clarke replies. “We do have to figure that out.”

Still, when they get into the living room, Raven is giving Bellamy a tight hug, which is a nice reminder that she’s not actually heartless, just… focused.

They’re talking in low voices, so Clarke and Zeke busy themselves getting breakfast set up on the dining table to give them some privacy.

“By the way, Clarke said you probably know where my phone is?” Bellamy asks Raven when they pull apart.

“Oh, yeah, your phone and wallet are in the top drawer of the desk,” she replies, and he disappears to find them and then gets his phone charging on the kitchen counter.

“Breakfast and then planning?” Clarke suggests when he’s back.

“We’re waiting for Wells and Sasha anyway, so yeah, might as well eat,” Raven agrees, taking a seat at the table, and the other three follow her example. “By the way, I did some hacking last night – like that paramedic said, there’s no record of a nine-one-one call from your cell phone on Saturday night, or from anywhere in this general area. Nothing’s been registered in the police or coroner records, you’re still the same person – same social, same date of birth, all of that – and you two are still married, so basically, it’s like it never happened.”

“Apart from all of us knowing it happened,” Zeke pipes in. “And, you know, your sister and best friend.”

“Minor detail,” Bellamy says with a snort.

Clarke has grabbed her phone and is checking her outgoing calls list. “It’s still here,” she says, holding the phone up so the others can see the registered call.

“That is so weird,” Zeke mumbles, shaking his head.

Bellamy frowns. “Well, yeah, but… in the grand scheme of things, is any of this really any weirder than the whole concept of Soul Keepers?” When the other three just stare at him, he shrugs. “I guess that’s just because I’m new to the whole thing then. But trust me – it’s _all_ weird.”

“Anyway,” Raven adds. “I figured you’d want to know that you don’t need a new identity or something. I mean, if you did, you’d probably have gotten one the way the rest of us did when we started out, but still. Nothing about this situation is normal, so I thought it couldn’t hurt to check.”

“Good to know, thanks.”

By the time there’s another knock on the door, the food is gone and they’ve moved to the couch, where Raven is unpacking her photo albums from Zeke’s backpack.

Clarke goes to let the others in, and is immediately pulled into Wells’ arms. “Happy for you, Griffin,” he mumbles in her ear and she squeezes him back tightly before letting him go.

“You and me both.”

Sasha pulls her into another hug before frowning at her. “And you didn’t…” She pauses, frowns as if trying to figure out how to phrase whatever it is she wants to say. “You had no idea…”

“Sash…” Wells hisses.

But Clarke gets it, so she just offers Sasha a half-smile. “You saw me yesterday, did it seem like I had any idea this would happen?”

“No, of course not, I’m sorry,” she quickly apologizes. “I just… why wouldn’t you get a heads up? I don’t get it.”

Clarke huffs a laugh. “That makes… a lot of us, honestly. Come on, Raven’s been chomping at the bit since they got here, we should get started before she spontaneously combusts or something.”

Sure enough, Raven gives them an impatient look. Her eyes soften, though, when both Wells and Sasha greet Bellamy with hugs and exclamations of how happy they are.

She gives them five minutes, which is really a lot of restraint for Raven. “OK, guys, come on! We have two hours to come up with some sort of explanation for Bellamy’s sister and best friend that’s not ‘sorry we pulled a morbid, not-at-all-fun prank on you’. Focus!”

Her words make all of them sober up and they sit down on the couch to brainstorm.

“Right, you’re the one who did this last,” Wells says, turning to Clarke. “So… how did you convince Bellamy?”

She thinks it through for a moment. “I have no idea. That whole day is a bit of a blur, honestly…” Bellamy squeezes her hand and she gives him a grateful smile. “How did I convince you?”

He frowns as he considers the question. “I’m not sure. In the end, I think it was just… it seemed so unlikely that you’d make up something so crazy. Like, why would you go to all that trouble? Especially since you didn’t get anything out of it. If you’d been, I don’t know… trying to get close to me because I was loaded and you wanted money or something, that would have been different, but with the whole round-the-world-trip, you were actually _spending_ money, so…”

“OK, well, I do still have plenty of money, but I’m not really that keen on sending all four of them on a trip like that, so anything else?”

“You taking me to that Transfer definitely helped,” he supplies. “And the app, that made it feel more… real I guess, possible. I mean, I assume Raven can build apps or whatever, but why would you do that just to fuck with me?” He pauses. “I should be able to download the app now, right? Not… I know you guys’ll have to do the initial explanation, but if they have trouble believing you, it might be easier if it comes from me. Especially for Octavia.”

“You should be able to access the app, yeah,” Clarke tells him, and he goes to grab his phone while she turns to the others. “Does anyone have a Transfer that might work as… a demonstration? I’m guessing you guys are on leave,” she adds, to Wells and Sasha. “Raven? Zeke?”

Raven has pulled her own phone from her pocket and is tapping away at it. “We’re both off for the next few days too,” she says without looking up. “You want me to send out a general alert to the gang?”

“Yeah, it might be good to have as a back-up plan.”

Bellamy returns to the couch and gives Clarke his phone with the app store open, and she finds the app quickly and gets it downloaded before handing it back.

“Hey, Jas,” Raven says, apparently having called Jasper. “Listen, do any of you have a Transfer that could work as a demonstration for Norms?” She’s quiet for a moment, getting up from the couch and wandering in the direction of the bedrooms as she listens. “Yeah, we need to explain the whole thing to Bellamy’s sister and friends so they won’t think the whole dying thing was some sort of morbid joke now that he’s back…” She cuts herself off and pulls the phone from her ear, and it’s clear why – Jasper’s voice can be heard all the way back to the couch for a moment before she disappears from view.

“I guess we forgot to call them,” Zeke says, unnecessarily.

“Apparently,” Clarke agrees with a snort, turning to Bellamy, who’s focused on his phone. “Is it working?”

She’s not expecting him to say no, but there’s still a tiny ball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, that maybe it’s been some mistake, that he’s not really supposed to be back after all.

“Yup,” he replies, showing her the app, which is just displaying an empty week in the standard calendar at the moment, the days greyed out just like in her own app. “I guess I don’t have any assignments yet, is that normal?”

She grabs her own phone and opens the app. “You usually start out sort of shadowing your mentor, so it’s completely normal, but in this case, you’re not on active duty,” she explains. “See? Mine’s the same. I… I took some extra time off, I wasn’t sure when I’d feel up to going back. Maybe you’re on the same leave.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, and she lets the warmth from his body calm her heart, which started racing just thinking about it. “I’m here, Princess,” he murmurs in her ear, just for her, and she nods.

“I know.”

She does. It’s just going to take some time before she can really wrap her mind around it enough to not give into the fears that are still lurking in the corners.

“OK, so that’s done,” Raven says, coming back into the room. “Maya had to take over because Jasper wasn’t making much sense after I told him Bellamy was back, but she promised to check her own and his assignments, and Monty and Harper’s, and get back to us if there’s something that would work.” She huffs. “They’re all obviously happy you’re back, but we’re not actually getting any closer to a solution.”

Bellamy keeps his arm around Clarke’s shoulders but leans back against the couch and runs his free hand through his hair. “Honestly, I think Clarke’s way was pretty good. Give them the background, or at least what we know, show them the photos and then I’ll be the… icing on the cake, sort of. No, that sounded weird.”

“You’ll be exhibit A,” Raven decides, scientific as always.

Clarke bites her lip. “I’m still sort of worried they’ll think it’s some weird prank,” she admits. “I mean, it took you, like, half an hour to convince me, and I know all about it _and_ could see that your Number was gone. They’ll just have to… take our word for it.”

“It’ll be fine,” Bellamy assures her, squeezing her a little, more confidence in his voice than just a moment ago. “I really think the photos will be more efficient than they were for me – Lincoln’s a professional photographer, he should be able to tell they’re not fakes.”

“Good point.”

They spend the next hour and a half putting together a bullet list as a starting point for their explanation, picking out pictures from Raven’s many albums to use as proof, and just discussing what to say in general, what they might be able to use or show the others that would make it easier to convince them.

“Hey, have you checked your email?” Wells asks at one point.

Bellamy frowns. “No, why?”

Clarke realizes what Wells must mean and takes over. “You’re not on active duty yet, but you might have gotten some information by email,” she explains.

He’s already tapping away at his phone. “Nope, nothing.”

“Check your bank account too,” Sasha suggests. “I assume the standard payment is still issued when you start out.”

“Payment?” Bellamy asks, eyebrows raised.

“You knew we got paid,” Clarke points out.

“Well, yeah, but I figured that was as a normal salary. You know, when I actually start working.”

“You’ll get that too, but you also get… a start-up payment, I guess you could call it,” Sasha explains. “Back when I started, it was… seven thousand two hundred, a year’s pay, but that was in sixty-three.”

Clarke can tell exactly when Bellamy gets into his bank account, because his eyes widen almost comically for a couple of seconds and then he blinks rapidly, as if he thinks the numbers will change if he does. When he just continues staring at the phone, she gently takes it from him to check herself.

Someone made a deposit of sixty thousand dollars yesterday.

“Sixty thousand, that checks out,” she says, logging out of the app and putting the phone on the table.

“It _checks out_?” Bellamy says incredulously. “That’s more money than I’ve ever seen…”

“I know,” she replies, patting him on the leg. “I meant it checks out with a year’s pay.”

He just shakes his head, still looking a little dazed. “Fuck, that’s surreal.”

Raven snorts. “So you die, have a conversation you can barely remember with some sort of face-less man, come back to life as someone who handles souls, but this, _this_ is surreal?”

The room’s quiet for a moment, and then everyone bursts out laughing at once.

When they’ve pulled themselves together, Raven checks her watch. “It’s almost one, you might want to go hide out in the bedroom before everyone gets here,” she tells Bellamy. “Unless you changed your mind and want to start with that part.”

He immediately shakes his head. “No, that would be… not a good idea.”

Clarke looks from him to the others. “Should I go with him? I’m pretty sure they’re going to know something’s up with me not being… you know.”

Raven lets out an exaggerated sigh. “You can’t keep that smile off your face for half an hour?” she asks, but she sounds more amused than annoyed.

Clarke’s pretty sure she hasn’t actually been smiling all morning – she’s definitely gotten choked up more than once when the memories of the past few days washed over her, and she was frowning down at the photos they’ve put together in an empty album she had lying around until they all started laughing, and that wasn’t just her – but she also knows that she must look a thousand times better than yesterday anyway, even without it. She got a good night’s sleep, so she probably doesn’t look completely exhausted, her eyes aren’t red-rimmed any more… she doesn’t want Octavia or Miller to think it took her two days to get over losing her husband, their brother and best friend. Even if it’s just for a little while.

“I think you should be there for the explanation,” Bellamy says, deciding it for her. “And I mean, it’s not like any of them are going to be asking why you’re not a crying mess or anything. Even if they think it’s weird, they won’t push like that.”

He’s right, of course, so she just walks him to the bedroom and lingers for a long kiss before closing the door, just to make absolutely sure nobody spots him before they’re supposed to.

When she gets back to the living room, she slumps down on the couch and leans her head on Raven’s shoulder.

“OK, that’s better,” her friend says amusedly. “Seriously, you know he’s in the other room, right?”

Clarke pinches her side. “I know. I’m… nervous, OK? I’ve basically been lying to all of them for the past eight months. Bellamy had trouble forgiving me for lying for, like, two. This is way worse.”

“Is it, though?” Zeke asks, sounding genuinely curious. “I mean, lying to a significant other isn’t the same as lying to a friend.”

“He’s right,” Raven decides. “I’d say it probably evens out – lying to your friend for eight months and lying to your boyfriend for two. And it wasn’t even really eight months, if you look at it like… efficient friend time or something.”

Clarke snorts. “Efficient friend time.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” The doorbell rings at that moment and Raven gives her a meaningful look. “Showtime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content, references to death


	67. Heaven Can Wait, We're Only Watching the Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So time for the big reveal with everyone else. I get the impression a lot of you are looking forward to seeing Octavia and company’s reaction – hope you like it!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “Forever Young” by Alphaville

Clarke’s frozen in her spot for long enough that Wells gets up to get the door. For a moment, she worries that it will be the first tip-off, but then she remembers that she’s barely left the couch over the last two days. Nobody will think it’s odd that they’re greeted by someone else – it would probably be weirder if she did get the door.

Sasha, who’s sitting next to her, squeezes her hand when they hear footsteps and voices getting closer, offering her silent support, and Clarke squeezes back.

Octavia immediately slumps down next to her, leaning against her side, and Clarke wraps an arm around her. “Did you sleep OK?”

“Yeah, but I still feel, like… like I’m dreaming or something,” she replies, sniffling a little.

“I know.” Clarke tightens her hold and gives Lincoln, who’s sat down on Octavia’s other side, a small smile that he returns.

Miller and Jackson have been ushered onto the chaise by Raven, who’s pulled up chairs for herself and Zeke on the other side of the coffee table. She gives Clarke a questioning look, and she nods discretely. Might as well get it over with, it’s not like it’s going to get any easier.

“Is anyone really hungry?” Raven asks. “We figured we’d order lunch, but there’s something we need to talk about first.”

Miller and Jackson exchange a look and Miller shrugs. “We’re fine to wait for a while,” Jackson says.

“I don’t care, I’m not hungry anyway,” Octavia says, ignoring the look Lincoln gives her. “We need to… to plan the funeral, right?”

It hadn’t occurred to Clarke that Octavia might think that’s what they wanted to talk about, but it should, of course.

She tries to keep her breathing even, not let the words get to her, because they have no meaning. Bellamy’s fine, he’s in the bedroom, she doesn’t have to plan his funeral or do any of the other things she’s been dreading for the last… eight months, if she’s honest.

“No,” she tells Octavia when she’s gotten her voice under control, squeezing her lightly. “That’s not what we need to talk about right now.”

Miller frowns at that, but before he can ask, Raven claps her hands together.

“Right. So it’s been a while since I did this, feel free to jump in or take over any time,” she starts, giving Clarke and Zeke significant looks. “Should we maybe start with establishing where everyone’s at religiously? Last time I did this I just had Christianity to deal with.”

Octavia straightens up, a confused look on her face. “Bell wasn’t religious at all, he hated it. Mom always said her parents were really religious and that’s part of why they kicked her out.”

“I don’t think any of us are particularly religious, right?” Miller says, glancing at Jackson and then Lincoln, who are both shaking their heads.

Raven nods. “Great, no ingrained religious beliefs to navigate. So what I’m about to tell you is probably going to sound a lot like science fiction.” She pauses and frowns. “Or maybe fantasy? I’ve never been good at telling those apart.”

“I think fantasy,” Zeke offers, and Wells nods.

“Yeah, definitely fantasy,” he agrees. “Science fiction is stuff based in science while fantasy…” He trails off at Raven’s raised eyebrows. “Sorry, not really relevant.”

“What does this have to do with… anything?” Octavia asks impatiently. “I don’t get… what are you trying to do?”

Raven gives Clarke a meaningful look and she reaches for Octavia’s hand, squeezing it lightly and smiling slightly when the other woman turns to her, eyes beseeching. “I’m sorry, I know this must be… I don’t even know. But if you just listen, I promise everything will make sense.”

“ _What_ will make sense?”

Lincoln leans closer, rubbing Octavia’s back consolingly, his voice gentle when he speaks, “Let’s just listen to what they have to say, OK?”

She still doesn’t look happy about it, but she does nod.

“Right,” Raven picks up the conversation again. “So none of you have a strong religious belief, but can we all agree that everyone has a soul? An essence, something that makes you who you are.” She waits until the four Norms have nodded, all looking even more confused, before she continues. “When you die, that soul leaves the body and needs… we can call it help, to move on to the afterlife.”

Octavia snorts. “I’m sorry, are you trying to pull some ‘he’s in a better place’ crap? My brother just died, I don’t care if he’s… floating on clouds playing the harp.”

“Octavia…” Lincoln tries, but she shakes off his hand and crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at Raven.

“I understand, and I promise that’s not what I’m doing,” Raven says, voice gentler, maintaining eye contact with Octavia until the other woman looks away. “OK, where were we… right, the soul needs help to move on. That’s what we do.”

It’s not what Clarke had been expecting, honestly, but she supposes it’s… efficient. And Raven’s never been one to beat around the bush.

“I’m sorry, who are ‘we’ in this scenario?” Miller asks, at the same time as Octavia says, “What do you mean, what you _do_?”

“A bit more background might have been good, babe,” Zeke notes, but he sounds fond.

“You take over then,” she suggests, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. “If you think you can do it better.”

Zeke shakes his head. “I thought you had actually done this before.”

“Give me a break, it’s been over a century and a half.”

Clarke’s not sure if it’s intentional, but it certainly makes everyone pay attention.

“Right,” Zeke says with a nod, eyes darting between his four very attentive listeners. “If we can just… not focus on what Raven just said for a few minutes, I’m going to try to explain this better.”

“You want us to just… forget that she just told us she’s a hundred and fifty years old?” Miller asks incredulously.

“Two hundred and one, if you please,” Raven pipes in and Zeke gives her an exasperated look.

“Not helping, babe.” He takes a deep breath and turns back to the others, who are all watching him with various levels of confusion on their faces. “Getting back on topic – like Raven said, when someone dies, their soul leaves the body, but it can’t move on without help. That’s where we come in. We call ourselves Soul Keepers, and we act as a… portal, would probably be the best way to put it, which the soul needs to pass through to get to the afterlife.”

Octavia lets out a noise, somewhere halfway between a sob and a snort. “I’m sorry, this is insane. Are you actually trying to make us believe that you’re some sort of… grim reapers that go around collecting souls or whatever, and that Raven’s over two hundred years old? I’m sorry, I don’t buy it.”

“I know it must sound crazy,” Clarke says, reaching for Octavia’s hand again, but she pulls it out of her grasp. “But it’s the truth.”

Octavia watches her for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “Fine, say it’s true,” she finally says. “I don’t believe you, but just for argument’s sake, let’s say it’s true.” She turns back to Zeke. “Go on.”

He rubs his neck, looking from Raven to Clarke. “I think this is when we switch to visual aids, right?”

Clarke nods and scoots forward a little, so she can open the photo album to the first page, where there’s a sepia tinted picture of Raven and Finn. It’s from around a decade before Clarke was ‘born’, from what she knows was their wedding, even if it’s not obvious from the actual photo – Raven is wearing a period appropriate dress and Finn a morning coat that Clarke’s pretty sure he had for many years after that day.

“This looks like something you could have taken at a ren faire or something,” Octavia says dismissively, barely glancing at the photo.

Lincoln is leaning over the album, though, one hand hovering an inch or so above the page. “No, this is… this is old,” he muses.

“Eighteen fifty-seven,” Raven tells him, a small smile on her face that makes Clarke wish she could offer her some comfort. But Zeke picks up on it too and wraps an arm around Raven, who offers him a slightly brighter smile.

“So you were already, like, forty in this photo?” Octavia asks. “Got to say, you age well.”

“We don’t age at all, actually,” Zeke replies, voice a little sharper than earlier and Octavia at least looks a little apologetic.

“And who’s that?” Miller pipes in, nodding at the photo.

“His name was Finn,” Raven tells him. “We were together for… forty-four years before he died.”

“So you can die but you don’t age?” Miller asks. “How does that work?”

“No, he wasn’t a Soul Keeper,” Raven explains. “We don’t age or die.”

She leans forward to flip the page, revealing what Clarke’s pretty sure is the first photo of the two of them together, taken by a passing-through photographer in eighteen seventy, if she’s not mistaken.

“And how old are you?” Octavia asks, voice cold and distant.

“A hundred and fifty-one,” she replies. “So Raven still has half a century on me.”

“Oh please, I’m still younger than you at heart,” Raven teases and Clarke rolls her eyes, turning the page again.

They go through the rest of the album slowly, each photo bringing up questions that they try to answer as best they can. Lincoln mostly comments on the quality of the actual photos, and he and Raven go off on tangents about the technology now and then, all the advances she’s seen in her lifetime, while Miller asks about events or places depicted, which Wells knows the most about even if it’s something he wasn’t actually present at. Jackson doesn’t contribute a lot, mainly frowning at the photos, and Octavia pipes in with biting remarks when someone new appears in one of the pictures.

“OK, so is everyone onboard?” Raven asks when they get to the last page. “Anyone still having doubts we’re telling the truth?”

Octavia heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, we believe you.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the logistics,” Jackson says, voice thoughtful, and Clarke realizes that he must have been thinking about this while they went through the album. “You say that you don’t age, but you’re all clearly adults. I’m assuming you didn’t just… come into existence like this, so how does that work?”

Clarke offers him a smile that she hopes conveys how grateful she is for his question, since it’s the natural transition to the next part of the reveal.

“Should we maybe order food before we get started on that part?” Sasha suggests. “It’ll take a while before it gets here.”

Clarke’s stomach growls at the words and she glances at her watch, realizing that it’s already been an hour and a half. “Good idea,” she agrees.

They settle on Thai and take a couple of minutes to figure out what everyone wants, and then Raven calls in the order. Clarke hears her add extra spring rolls and an order of Kari fried rice with chicken, Bellamy’s favorite.

“OK,” she says when she’s hung up. “Let’s get on with it, I want to wrap this up before the food gets here.”

“So, like we’ve already established,” Zeke starts, “we don’t age, but as for how we become Soul Keepers… in all honesty, that part’s always been a bit of a mystery even to us. We have always assumed that we live normal lives and are… recruited, for lack of a better word, when we die, at which point we become Soul Keepers and stop aging.”

“Assumed?” Octavia questions, looking more curious than annoyed for the first time. “You don’t actually _know_?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No. When we… wake up, that’s what it’s like. When we wake up, we have no memories of our past lives. We know who we are and what we’re expected to do, we have the type of knowledge of the world you’d expect from an average person, but that’s about it.”

The room falls silent for a long moment, and then Octavia sighs. “This is so _weird_.”

Zeke snorts. “I can only imagine.”

“And I still don’t understand why you’re telling us all this,” she goes on. “I mean, it’s fascinating and all, and I suppose it would eventually be a problem, you guys not aging, we’d definitely catch on at some point, but not for years. So why now?”

“Because I wanted to be able to see you guys again.”

Even though she was half expecting it – she’s sure he’s been eavesdropping on the conversation and just couldn’t stay away any longer – Clarke still jumps a little at Bellamy’s voice. Before she can recover, Octavia gasps and scrambles to her feet, pushing past Clarke and Sasha to get to her brother.

“What the hell!” she exclaims when she does, punching him – hard, by the look of his wince – in the shoulder before throwing herself into his arms.

He holds onto her tightly, one hand starting to stroke her hair when she bursts into tears, murmuring something Clarke can’t hear. She turns from them, wanting to give them a little bit of privacy, and focuses on the other three.

Lincoln is looking a little shell-shocked, which isn’t surprising, really, Jackson is gaping at the scene in front of him and Miller is blinking rapidly.

Nobody says anything as the siblings reunite, and after a few minutes, Bellamy ushers Octavia back to the couch. She refuses to let go of him, though, and Clarke and Sasha move over a little so both of them will fit in the spot Octavia vacated earlier.

“OK?” Clarke asks quietly, looping her arm through his when he’s sat down, and he leans in for a brief kiss.

“OK.”

“No!” Miller exclaims. “Not OK. None of this is OK! What the hell is going on?”

“Nate…” Jackson tries, putting one hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, but he shakes it off turning on Bellamy, looking angrier than Clarke’s ever seen him.

“No. They told us you were _dead_ , OK? They let us believe that for two days. Was that some sort of sick joke?”

Octavia leans over and actually flicks him in the temple, which seems to get through at least some of his anger. “Are you really that stupid?” she asks when he’s focused on her. “You saw Clarke, just like I did, do you seriously think she would _joke_ about something like that?”

It’s exactly what Clarke was afraid of herself, but at least Miller seems to be the only one who believes it. One out of four isn’t that bad. And she’s pretty sure it’s at least partly shock, and that they can talk him around.

The expression on his face shifts at Octavia’s words and he glances at Clarke. “No, that’s not… of course not. I’m just trying to understand, because _none of this_ makes any sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Jackson tells him, earning a glare. “Not… OK, the whole thing is still really weird, but this at least explains why they would tell us.”

Miller’s eyes are still narrowed, but it looks like a lot of the fight has gone out of him. “I still don’t like it.”

“It’s not like we had a lot of options,” Bellamy tells him with a shrug. “Look, none of us knew that this was going to happen, OK? If we had we would have handled it differently. But since we didn’t, it was this or… fake a funeral and then Clarke would have had to either come up with a good reason to leave in a few years, or she’d just have disappeared. Would that have been better?”

“No!” Octavia exclaims, glaring at Miller. “Stop being an asshole, Miller. This is good.”

He stares back for a moment before slumping back against the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know, OK? It’s fucking… it’s… I’m so fucking happy to have you back, man, but this is _a lot_ to take in.”

Bellamy snorts. “Trust me, I know.”

“So you say you didn’t know this was going to happen,” Jackson says. "But you knew it _could_ happen, right?”

Clarke glances at Raven but she just shrugs, making no move to answer the question.

“In theory, yes,” she says. “But like Zeke said, we don’t actually _know_ how it happens, how new Soul Keepers are recruited. The assumption among the majority of us has always been that it’s normal people who die and are turned into Keepers, but that’s nothing we’ve ever really had confirmed. And even if it was a possibility, there aren’t that many of us. The odds that Bellamy would actually be chosen were slim and I think… I know I, at least, tried to not think about it too much because if I did, I might get my hopes up and then if it didn’t happen…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, can’t, even with him next to her. He squeezes her hand reassuringly.

“You never said anything,” he says, voice gentle.

She looks up and offers him a small smile. “Like I said, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. And you had enough on your plate with the whole…” She has to pause and take a breath. “The dying thing, I didn’t want to dump even more stuff on you.”

“Hang on,” Octavia’s voice breaks the moment between them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bellamy freezes in a very convincing imitation of a deer caught in the headlights. “You haven’t covered this part?”

“I thought you were listening in the whole time, you didn’t hear everything we said?” Clarke retorts.

“Just for the last fifteen minutes or so,” he says. “I was trying to figure out if you had ordered food yet, I was getting hungry.”

“We have,” Raven pipes in. “It should be here in, like, half an hour.”

“Great.” He nods, avoiding his sister’s searching looks. “That should give us plenty of time to talk about the whole… Numbers thing.”

“What numbers?” Octavia demands, crossing her arms over her chest. “Clarke made it sound like you knew you were going to die or something.”

Bellamy offers her a tentative smile, but apparently her initial elation to have her brother back is basically over, because she doesn’t even flinch. “I did, yeah.”

“What the hell, man?” Miller exclaims. “And you didn’t tell us?”

“I thought about it, OK?” Bellamy tells him. “But in the end I didn’t want to… I don’t know, I didn’t want you guys to have to worry about it. I didn’t want it to… taint the time we had together.”

Miller snorts. “That’s poetic and shit but come on. I don’t know about the rest of you but I would have preferred getting to say goodbye.”

Octavia’s nodding. “Me too.” Her eyes widen almost comically. “That’s why you were so weird at the airport in Vegas? You knew it was the last time we’d see each other.”

Bellamy reaches for her hand and she at least doesn’t pull away from him. “Yeah, that’s why. I’m sorry, maybe I did make the wrong decision, maybe I should have told you.”

“It’s kind of a moot point now,” Raven points out, helpful as always.

“But…” Octavia starts, turning to Clarke. “You said the paramedics didn’t know what happened. If you knew it was coming, you would have known why too. Right?”

“No, that’s…” Bellamy pauses, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t go to a doctor and get a diagnosis or something. That’s not what happened.”

“Then how the fuck did you know?” Miller asks, though he sounds more curious than angry, which is a relief.

“That’s where the Numbers come in,” Bellamy tells him.

“OK, then explain what you mean with those damn numbers,” Octavia exclaims.

Bellamy looks around at the other Keepers in the room. “Does someone with more than twelve hours of experience want to take this?”

Wells nods, and Clarke’s grateful that she doesn’t have to.

“OK, so when you’re born – or it might be earlier, actually, I don’t know, it doesn’t show up in photos – you get a Number,” he starts. “Call it fate, destiny, whatever you’d like. This Number is the amount of time you have to live, in days, and from the day you’re born, it counts down, until the day you’re going to die. Normal people – we call them Norms – can’t see these numbers, but we can.” His eyes dart to Octavia’s forehead, where 23,629 is clearly visible. She frowns and lifts her hand to her face, rubbing at the spot.

“What?”

“That’s where your number is,” Wells tells her.

She looks up, as if she can see it somehow. “Well, what is it?”

“O,” Bellamy warns. “You don’t want to know that.”

“Why not?” she retorts.

“He’s right,” Raven says. “You don’t want to live your life counting down to your death. There’s a reason you can’t see the Number yourself.”

Octavia still looks like she might argue, but Lincoln puts a hand on her arm and she lets out a long breath. “Fine, you’re probably right.”

“But that’s why you told Bellamy,” Lincoln surmises, turning to Clarke.

She nods. “Yeah. When we met, or, the first time I saw his Number, anyway, it was two hundred and sixty-eight. A little less than nine months.”

The memory of that night still makes something icy scratch at her insides, which Bellamy must either realize or notice, because his arm around her tightens. She gratefully leans her head against his shoulder.

“She tried to avoid me at first, though,” he says and she elbows him lightly in the ribs.

“It was… self-preservation.”

“So that’s what that was?” Miller asks, sounding thoughtful. “You freaked out because you found out he was going to die soon?”

“Basically, yeah,” she confirms with a sigh. “I’ve always had a no Norms rule, or at least nothing more than a one-time thing…”

“For this exact reason,” Bellamy interjects.

“For this exact reason, yes,” she agrees. “But he’s stubborn, so…”

“Oh please,” Raven says with a snort. “You were this close to breaking when he tracked you down.”

“You did say that,” Bellamy reminds her. “I’m just irresistible, I guess.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “That must be it.”

Octavia’s been quiet for a long time, but now she gets involved in the conversation again. “So that’s why you agreed to the whole… round-the-world trip thing? I did think it was really weird, since you’ve always hated to accept any kind of help.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says with a nod. “She was sneaky about it, too. Before she even told me about all of this, she started asking what I’d want to do if I found out I only had a year to live and got me talking about all the places I’d want to visit… then when she’d told me the truth, she was like, ‘so you’ll let me take you on that trip, right?’. I didn’t agree right away but… she can be very persuasive when she wants to be.”

“OK, ew, we don’t need to hear about Clarke’s powers of persuasion,” Octavia declares.

“All I did was show him my bank account,” Clarke assures her with a laugh.

“And it was very persuasive.”

“And that’s why…” Octavia starts, looking down at her and Bellamy’s hands in her lap. “That’s why you looked me up, too? You weren’t going to be passing through really, right? You found me and added Dublin to your plans?”

“Yeah, that’s why I tracked you down,” Clarke confirms. “I was just glad you didn’t have a common name, so it wasn’t even hard. And Dublin wasn’t on the list originally, but Bellamy was fine with me adding places too, I didn’t even have to come up with an excuse.”

He snorts. “I guess I’m just gullible and want to believe you don’t lie to me.”

“It was a good lie, though.”

“It really was.” He turns to Octavia. “I was planning on finding you when we got back to the States. In hindsight, that wouldn’t have been a good idea, but I didn’t know you were all the way over in Europe, so…”

Octavia moves away a little from Lincoln to wrap her arms around her brother. “God, after Raven called us… I mean, once I’d gotten over the initial shock, I was so mad at myself for staying away so long.”

“Hey, it’s OK,” Bellamy assures her, wrapping his free arm around her and kissing her hair. “I was just glad that we got to reconnect at all, OK? I had pretty much resigned myself to never getting to see you again.”

She lets out a half-choked sob. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have taken off like I did back then.”

“Hey, hey, no. We talked about this, remember? And it’s like I told Clarke when we were up in Bellport – I don’t know where I would have been today if my life hadn’t unfolded the way it did. You leaving… it sucked at the time, but it did make me the person I am today.”

There’s a knock on the door at that moment, and Clarke squeezes Bellamy’s hand before slipping out from under his arm to get it, Raven getting to her feet as well. He gives her a smile and wraps his other arm around his sister as well, mumbling comforting words into her hair as he rubs her back.

“That went about as well as I expected,” Raven says quietly when they’re in the entranceway.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Clarke agrees, letting out a long breath which it feels like she’s been holding for hours.

“Hey, be happy, babe,” Raven tells her. “You got your guy back, you’re not going to have to fake your own deaths in a few years so his friends and family won’t get suspicious, you’re in the clear. I mean, if you think about it, you basically won the lottery.”


	68. Fairytales of Yesterday Will Grow but Never Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of new chapter on Wednesday, this week kicked my ass and I was basically trying to keep my head above water with work! Hope this is worth the wait :)
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “The Show Must Go On” by Queen

Raven’s words pick at something in Clarke’s mind, and she has to make a deliberate effort to push them away as they get the food from the delivery guy and get it set up on the dining table.

It’s not a normal lunch with friends in any way. Everyone, herself included, keep stealing glances at Bellamy every few minutes, as if they’re all expecting him to disappear at any moment.

Which he doesn’t, of course. She’s getting more and more sure that he won’t as the day goes on.

Raven’s phone dings around the time Clarke realizes that she’s eaten way too much food.

“Hey, Monty says he’s got a Transfer for us in a couple of hours,” Raven says, eyebrows raised. “If we still want it?”

Clarke turns to Bellamy, who shrugs. “I don’t know, does anyone still need convincing?”

Miller swallows down the last of his Pad Thai. “I think we’re good. What’s a transfer, though?”

“It’s what we call the process where we help souls move on,” Clarke explains.

Lincoln frowns. “That sounds very… technical.”

“It’s what it’s been called for as long as I’ve been doing this,” Raven notes, pushing her plate away. “So I actually think it pre-dates any type of technical transfers. But I know what you mean.”

Bellamy taps away at his phone for a moment and then looks up. “The word ‘transfer’ is from the early fourteenth century, apparently, and the original meaning is to ‘bear across, carry over, bring through’, so it actually makes sense. We just have these modern associations that makes it weird.”

“Do you seriously have an entomology app on your phone?” Octavia questions with an exasperated look. “Or did you just download it?”

He rolls his eyes. “I already had it. And it’s etymology, not entomology – that’s the study of insects.”

“OK, so that explains what a transfer is,” Miller brings the conversation back to the topic at hand. “But why does Monty have one? I assume it means he’s one of you guys, but still, explanation please. How can you ‘have’ something like that?”

“Oh, right, we didn’t talk about that part either,” Clarke says as she realizes it. “So, like Zeke explained earlier, we help souls pass on to the afterlife, but it’s not… we don’t just wander around waiting for people to die. A soul will pass through the nearest Keeper at time of death, but it’s easier all around if we’re prepared for it, so we’re assigned… I guess you can call them cases. Souls that we’re in charge of helping. Raven asked a few of our other Keeper friends earlier if they had any Transfers they thought would work as… a demonstration, sort of, if any of you had trouble believing us.”

Bellamy’s been nodding along as she’s been speaking, and when she stops, he takes over. “Clarke actually took me along to one when she told me, it was… definitely an experience. So if anyone still does need convincing, or just want to see what it is we do, we can show you.”

Jackson and Miller exchange a look. “Yeah, I think we’re good,” Miller then says. “It still sounds completely insane, and it’s going to take some time to get used to. We might have follow-up questions later, stuff we haven’t thought about, but we believe you.”

Octavia is looking thoughtful. “I think I kind of do want to see. Not because I don’t believe you,” she hurries to add. “Just, like you said, I’m curious what it is you guys do.”

“No problem,” Clarke assures her, turning to Raven. “Ask Monty to send it to me. Or do you want to handle it?”

“Nah, you go ahead,” Raven says. “Four people is already a little conspicuous, we don’t want to attract too much attention. Besides, if you don’t need us, I think we’ll head home, pick up Lola from Jasper and Maya on the way.”

Clarke feels a flash of guilt because she hasn’t even thought about the dog in the last couple of days. Granted, she’s been kind of distracted, but she still feels bad.

“Of course, you should,” she replies with a smile. “Give Lola a bunch of kisses from me, OK?”

“Will do.”

Clarke’s phone dings at that moment, and she pulls it out to find that Monty has sent over the Transfer – Michael David Johnson, male, 59. July 30, 5:57 PM. COD: road traffic accident. The coordinates show a spot on Central Park West, near The Lake.

“You use an _app_?” Octavia’s voice comes from behind her, and Clarke jumps a little when she leans over her shoulder to get a closer look.

“My reaction exactly,” Bellamy says with a chuckle.

“So how does it work?”

Clarke clicks out of the map and shows her the information about the Transfer. “This is the information we get, and then the coordinates open up the map. There’s even a navigation feature, which shows us how long it’ll take to get to the spot by foot, car or public transportation.”

“So it’s basically Google Maps?” Octavia asks with an amused look.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“So we’re going up to Central Park?” Octavia continues. “Maybe we can fit in some sightseeing while we’re out, Lincoln’s never been to New York before?”

“No?” Bellamy asks, looking at Lincoln.

“Born and raised on the west coast,” he explains. “I didn’t leave California until we moved to the UK when I was twelve, and I haven’t been back since. Well, except the trip to Las Vegas.”

“Then sightseeing it is,” Clarke decides.

They get the leftover food packed away in the fridge and then get ready to leave.

“Hey, O, do you guys maybe want to stay with us instead?” Bellamy asks when they’re in the hallway. “I don’t know how long you’ll be able to stay in town, but…”

Octavia frowns at the question. “Shit, I don’t know. What did you tell Indra when you called the gym, Linc?”

“Just that there was a family emergency, luckily,” Lincoln replies. “Though you should probably call her, she did say that we should take our time, but an update might be a good idea. I’m sure if you tell her Bellamy was in an accident or something, we can stay the rest of the week.”

“Yeah, that should be fine,” she agrees, though she looks a little hesitant. “I don’t like leaving her in the lurch… but it’s still pretty slow, the big after-summer-rush doesn’t usually get started until mid-August. And you don’t have anything booked, right?”

Lincoln squeezes her hand with a smile. “Nope, nothing until next weekend.”

“OK, I’ll call Indra in the morning, then,” Octavia decides, turning to Miller and Jackson. “I assume you don’t mind getting your apartment to yourselves again?”

Miller snorts. “Yeah, because you two have been such horrible roommates.”

Bellamy finds his car keys in the bowl by the door and holds them up. “Why don’t you two take my car home, and then we can take the subway there later and pick up O and Lincoln’s things and take the car back?”

Miller swipes the keys. “Sounds good.”

Octavia and Lincoln’s discussion about what her boss had been told made Clarke think of something, though. “Hey, Miller?”

“Yeah?” He turns to her, eyebrows raised.

“Have you talked to your parents? You know, told them about…”

He shakes his head, and she gratefully trails off.

“No, they’re on holiday in Florida, I didn’t want to… they’ll be back on Saturday, I was going to tell them then, but I guess now I don’t have to. And we haven’t told anyone else, right?”

Jackson shakes his head.

“Great, no more damage control!” Raven exclaims. “Now come on, this hallway’s nice and all, but it’s a little crowded.”

Miller and Jackson head down to the garage while the others leave the building, heading to the subway together. Raven, Zeke, Wells and Sasha continue to Borough Hall while Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln catch the orange line at York.

They get off at 7th Avenue and spend the next couple of hours showing Lincoln Central Park, seeking refuge from the heat with frappuccinos at a Starbucks before making their way to the location in Clarke’s app.

It’s a place she must have passed hundreds, if not thousands, of times during her many years in New York. In fact, she walked past here the day she met Bellamy, after he pulled her out of the way of the cab a couple of blocks further up the park.

“Lots of people around,” Bellamy now notes, scanning the T junction. “You want to sit down?”

There are a couple of benches along the wall to the park, the trees casting some shadow on them, and they claim one with a good view of the intersection.

“So how does this work?” Octavia stage whispers after a few minutes. “And you said the soul picks the nearest Soul Keeper, what if it goes to Bell instead of you?”

Clarke shrugs. “I suppose it could,” she admits. “But I’ve never had that happen when I’ve been assigned to a Transfer, even with other Keepers close by. But I guess if it does, he gets his first taste of this and I can do the explaining.”

She does hope it won’t happen though – she still remembers her first ever Transfer, and even though it was pretty standard, it still left her literally shaking for half an hour after. She’d rather Bellamy does his first when there aren’t any other people around.

She knows what to look for by now, and catches the lights changing, the truck that was waiting for a green light on the side street starting to roll forward, and then the sleek, black car running the red light and right into the side of it.

She vaguely registers Octavia’s gasp next to her, as if from a great distance, and then the memories fill her mind – what seems like a happy childhood, losing a parent in his teens, marriage and children and then another funeral for a parent, nothing out of the ordinary.

When Clarke comes back to herself, she’s leaning against Bellamy, her head on his shoulder. “OK?” he mumbles and she nods.

“Yeah, it was fine.” She glances at the truck that’s blocking most of the street, the wreck of the other car half under it, the people gathered around. “Time to head out?”

“Good idea,” he agrees, pulling her to her feet and supporting her when she stumbles a little.

She’s almost forgotten that they have company until Octavia loops an arm through hers. “I could barely tell anything was happening, but I’m guessing you experienced… something?”

Clarke nods. “I am pretty used to it by now,” she says. “But yeah, we get a glimpse of the person’s life, their memories. It can be pretty overwhelming at first, and even after all these years, I’m affected by the more… difficult ones. And it’s always more or less draining.”

She feels Bellamy’s arm tighten around her shoulders. “Do you want to head home, get some rest?”

“We need to get your car and Octavia and Lincoln’s things from Miller,” she reminds him. “I’m fine.”

“It’s only a little after six, there’s plenty of time for us to bring you home and then head over to Forest Hills,” he insists. “We’re not in any hurry.”

“That would just be a total waste of time,” she tells him. “Seriously, I’m fine. A little rattled, but nothing a bit of sugar can’t fix. Why don’t we cut through the park, I can grab an ice cream or something, and then we’ll catch the subway at Lexington and 63rd?”

She looks up at him, lets him scrutinize her for a few minutes, and has to hide a smile when he sighs. “Fine, if you’re sure.”

“Very sure.”

In fact, she barely even needs the ice cream, feels perfectly fine by the time they pass a street vendor in the park, but Bellamy insists, so she gets them all one, to make it feel less like medicine.

Bellamy texts Miller when they’re about to get on the subway, and he texts back that he’ll order food, so they end up staying for dinner before they load themselves and Lincoln and Octavia’s bags into the truck to head home.

It’s only a little after nine when they finally get back, but it’s been a long day, and nobody seems to be up for anything that requires too much brain activity or energy, so they just lounge on the couch, watching some old _I Love Lucy_ episodes that Octavia finds on a channel Clarke didn’t even know they had. After a while, Bastet emerges from wherever she’s been hiding all day, sniffs the newcomers and then settles down stretched out in Bellamy’s lap, her head on Clarke’s thigh, and starts purring.

When Octavia’s yawned five times in as many minutes, Lincoln clears his throat. “Bed?” he suggests, and she nods.

“Yeah, I’ll fall asleep soon either way,” she admits, standing and stretching.

“You know where the guest room is?” Bellamy asks, and they both nod.

“The towels in the bathroom are clean,” Clarke adds. “There should be toothpaste in the cabinet over the sink, but I don’t think I have any spare toothbrushes, sorry.”

Lincoln squeezes her shoulder as they pass. “We’ve got it, don’t worry. Night.”

“Night.”

A moment later, the door to the guest bedroom clicks shut.

“Another episode?” Bellamy suggests, and Clarke snuggles in closer.

“Sure.”

Apparently, though, she manages to fall asleep halfway through the episode, and wakes up when he lifts her into his arms to carry her into the bedroom.

“I’m awake,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes, and Bellamy carefully puts her down.

“Good, I hadn’t decided if I was going to wake you to get you to brush your teeth and get undressed or not, now I don’t have to.”

She shoves him away lightly, but then catches his hand to pull him along towards the bedroom. They get ready side by side in the bathroom, brushing their teeth in silence, and then crawl into bed.

For a second or two, Clarke considers rolling on top of him, but she did just fall asleep in front of the TV, so even if she actually was feeling up for it, she’s pretty sure he’d – very gently – turn her down and convince her to go to sleep instead.

So she settles in on her side, his arm going around her almost automatically so she can use his shoulder as a pillow comfortably, and throws one leg over his.

Their standard sleeping arrangement, basically.

Bellamy pulls the comforter up over them and then tightens his hold on her, his thumb slipping under the t-shirt she pulled on for bed to rub against her hip.

“So overall, a pretty successful day,” he says after a moment.

She can’t help but snort. “Yeah, it went fine. Nobody freaked out too much, nobody stormed off in a huff…”

He pinches her side. “I did not storm off in a huff. I told you I needed to think and then very calmly went to do that in the bedroom. How is that storming off?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She lets her eyes slide closed. “And the Transfer was fine? Octavia said she barely noticed anything, so I’m guessing it wasn’t too obvious what was happening.”

“No, it was fine. If I hadn’t known what was happening, I never would have thought you were doing anything other than taking a break on a bench. I mean, it wasn’t any different from the one you took me to back in January, but this time I knew what was going on.”

“Good,” she says. “And it was a good one for a show and tell, pretty basic memories, nothing out of the ordinary.”

He’s quiet for a long moment before he speaks again. “Would that have been bad, if the memories had been… you said bad memories makes it more difficult, right? More intense… draining?”

Clarke considers the question and her response for a moment. “Yeah, bad memories are more intense, but I’m honestly not sure if that would be obvious to someone else while it’s happening. I’ve never seen myself during a Transfer, obviously, all I can go by is how I feel after and how other people look. Remember I told you about the one I had the day we met, the man who had been abused as a child and then lost his wife and daughter and started drinking? After that one, I was so shaky I actually had trouble walking for a few minutes. But I don’t know if I looked any different from now. And I’ve seen Raven, Zeke… most of my friends during Transfers, I’ve never actually seen anyone react. Even in the beginning, when you’re first starting out, it’s _after_ that’s worst. Once you’re back to yourself.”

Bellamy hums and slips his hand out from under her shirt to slide up her back and tangle in her hair. When he’s been quiet for a long moment, she thinks that maybe he’s fallen asleep, but then he says, “It kind of slipped my mind, what with all the other stuff going on but…” He pauses, and she twists around to be able to look at him.

“What?”

His mouth tugs up on one side and he reaches out to run his knuckles against her cheek. Clarke leans into the touch.

“Just… the Transfer today, it reminded me that… you did that. For me.”

“Oh.”

The memories are still crystal clear in her mind, of course. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget them – she’ll carry his happiness and grief and fear with her forever. She kind of likes it, in some strange way.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he hurries to go on. “I get that it must have been hard. But… if you want…”

She sighs and settles back down against his chest, his fingers sliding into her hair again immediately, blunt nails scraping against her scalp.

“It was,” she says after another long moment.

“What did you see? Unless it’s… I don’t know, I mean, they’re _my_ memories, you know, so it’s not like it’s personal for _you_ , really, but…”

She presses a kiss to his chest. “No, I get what you mean.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I saw when Octavia was born.”

Bellamy huffs what is not quite a laugh. “Fuck, I didn’t think I remembered that. I remember after, when I got to hold her, but before that…”

“I think we can see memories that people have repressed,” she muses. “Or I really hope some of the memories I’ve seen have been repressed…” His mouth presses against the top of her head and she snuggles impossibly closer, relishing the warmth from his body for a moment. “OK, let’s see… one of Octavia’s birthdays, maybe five or six? She was jumping on the bed, so happy… and you were happy too, this… uncomplicated happiness I don’t think people really experience except when they’re little.”

“That one I do remember,” he says, and Clarke can tell that he’s smiling from his voice. “She turned five, and I was ten, she was so excited to be exactly half as old as I was.”

“That’s cute. Then… when you got your acceptance letter to college, opening it with Miller.” She can feel him tensing underneath her and she knows that he knows what’s coming. “Your mom. When you found her and the funeral.”

“I’m sorry.”

She has to look up at him again. “Why? You’re the one it happened to, I just got the… rerun, sort of.”

“Still. I remember how I was feeling back then, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone to have to experience that.”

She knows what he means, of course. And it’s not like she can tell him that experiencing his grief for his mother was nothing to her own grief over losing him, especially not since she got him back in the end, but…

“So was the next memory when I met you?” Bellamy asks, pulling her out of her dark thoughts. “That must have made the list.”

She has to smile. “It did, but I got your big fight with Octavia first.”

Bellamy winces. “Oh, shit, I forgot about that. That must have been fun, my feelings were all over the place back then.”

“No wonder. And then you met me.”

“And then I met you. Best day of my life.”

It makes her feel all warm inside. “Yeah?”

“It wasn’t for you?” he asks, though he sounds mostly curious. “I mean, I know I have a hundred and fifty years’ worth of days to compete with, but still.”

“Well, when you put it like that. Though yesterday is pretty stiff competition.”

“Me too. So then it was basically cute moments between us, right?”

This time, Clarke actually laughs. “More or less. Stargazing at Raven’s Halloween party, the day you found me at the library and asked me to lunch – you were so nervous!”

“Can you blame me?” he retorts with a huff. “I was practically stalking you.”

“But in a good way. Then there was…” She has to actually think for a moment. “I’m guessing the night after I told you about Soul Keepers and all that, you were trying to make sense of that and come to terms with… everything.”

“Yeah, that was the night after you told me,” he confirms. “It took me ages to fall asleep, my mind just kept churning, and then I had strange dreams… OK, then what?”

“The next one was in Dublin, when Octavia gave you the ring.” She pokes him a little in the ribs and he interlaces their fingers to stop her. “No wonder you were acting so weird when I got up that morning.”

“I was hoping you didn’t notice,” Bellamy admits.

“Nope, I noticed. It just slipped my mind, I guess. Next was the Eiffel Tower… just out of curiosity, what was your plan if you actually had proposed then?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I didn’t really have a plan, honestly. I mean, I was pretty sure you’d want at least Raven there, and I wanted Octavia and Miller, so I probably would have suggested waiting until we got back to the States, maybe even New York.”

Clarke hums thoughtfully. “Honestly? I think I prefer the way it worked out. I didn’t have time to get all stressed out about it, and I didn’t have to do anything.”

“Perfect wedding?”

“The most perfect.”

She yawns, and he tugs her closer, and for a moment, she forgets what they’re talking about.

“Then what? Actual proposal and wedding?”

“Hmm… no, first meeting your grandparents in the Philippines.”

“Ah, of course. And then the proposal and wedding?”

“Yup, the grand finale.”

Bellamy hums, his breath warm against her skin, and she feels sleep tugging at her.

“So should I prepare for another freak out in the morning?” he asks before she can slip under completely.

She considers the question thoroughly for a moment. “I don’t know, honestly. I mean… it was really only… only the one morning when I woke up… without you,” she then says, fighting to keep her voice steady at the end and not quite succeeding. “The first night, I just stayed on the couch, dozed now and then, until Raven and Zeke showed up, but the second night… well, apparently Raven drugged me and I’m guessing Zeke put me to bed. Waking up in the guest room, alone, was…”

Clarke trails off, because she doesn’t have words for it. There’s no way to describe the moment of confusion and then the horrible feeling when everything came crashing back.

He rolls onto his side so he can wrap his arms around her more completely and she gratefully presses her nose against his throat, breathing him in. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she tells him.

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop saying it any time soon. And I’ll be here to remind you tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…”

Clarke feels the corners of her mouth turn up a little at the reminder that they really do have all the time in the world.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”


	69. Touch My World with Your Fingertips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we’re seriously starting to count down here… I’ve been living with this story so long, even before I actually started writing it, that it feels completely surreal that I’ll just be done soon… two more chapters, including this one, and then a short epilogue. I do also have a sequel that I started writing this summer after a comment. I wrote, like, 90% in a couple of days and then it trailed off, for some reason, but I know the rest of the plot so it’s really just a matter of sitting down and actually writing it – hopefully I’ll get a chance to do that over the holidays! 
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> See the end of the chapter for warnings
> 
> Chapter title from “Who Wants to Live Forever” by Queen

Waking up with Bellamy the next morning is both better and worse – better because there’s no moment of panic, of thinking him coming back was just a dream, and worse because he actually turns down morning sex.

“Shit, are we already turning into one of those old married couples who only have sex on birthdays and holidays?” Clarke jokes when he rolls out of bed.

“Obviously,” he replies with an eye-roll, but then he sighs. “It’s just… O’s next door.”

“Probably having sex with her own boyfriend,” she points out, earning a glare.

“If you’re trying to convince me, that’s not a good argument.”

She flops back on the bed with a huff. “You didn’t mind when it was Raven and Zeke in the guest room,” she reminds him,

“And then you told me they heard us,” he retorts. “If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t mind now either.”

“We can stay quiet…”

Bellamy shakes his head with a chuckle but does lean down to kiss her. When she tries to deepen the kiss, though, he pulls away. “Just give me a little time to get used to the idea, OK? I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight…”

“Fine, but don’t think I won’t hold you to that.”

So she gets up and starts on breakfast while he takes a shower instead, and when Octavia and Lincoln emerge from the guest room half an hour later, she’s already got a stack of pancakes done and is scrambling some eggs.

“I thought Bell said you didn’t cook?” Octavia asks, sounding slightly suspicious.

Clarke grabs a bottle of syrup from the pantry and puts it down next to the pancakes. “Breakfast foods are the exception,” she explains. “Sit, dig in. What do you want to drink?”

“I promise it’s safe,” Bellamy says as he joins them, and she flicks him with her spatula before finding juice in the fridge.

Everyone does start eating, though, and when the eggs are done, Clarke joins them at the breakfast bar. Once everyone’s finished, Octavia goes online to book their flights back to Dublin – she called her boss and ‘explained’ the situation, and Indra insisted that she didn’t need to get back until Tuesday, since Monday’s apparently a holiday in Ireland and Octavia wasn’t supposed to be working anyway, so they get a late flight on Sunday, giving them five full days in the city. Once that’s done, they start making plans, mostly based on what Lincoln wants to do, since he’s the one who’s never been to the city before.

So they spend the next few days playing tourists. They walk the Brooklyn Bridge, take another trip out to Roosevelt Island, where Octavia’s never been before either, and stroll along the High Line, which didn’t even exist when she left the US. They explore Chinatown and Little Italy, Soho and Greenwich Village, and eat all the take-out Octavia’s been missing. She manages to get tickets for her and Lincoln to both the Statue of Liberty and the observation deck at the Empire State Building on Friday afternoon, and Clarke and Bellamy take advantage of having the apartment to themselves for a few hours. Clarke tries every trick in the book, eventually ending up calling in a favor from Murphy, and gets them tickets to _Hamilton_ – which Bellamy somehow hasn’t seen – on Saturday afternoon, and all four of them spend the rest of the day humming along to the songs, until it’s time to head to Raven and Zeke’s place, since Raven insisted on throwing Octavia and Lincoln, and Wells and Sasha who are heading back to London on Sunday too, a going away party.

Clarke hasn’t actually seen Raven since they parted ways on Tuesday, even though they’ve been texting more or less the way they usually do, and her friend’s words have been churning in her mind on and off for the last four days. She’s already decided that she’s going to bring it up tonight, not because she wants to ease her own mind – or not _just_ that – but because she thinks that maybe Raven needs to talk about it too. She’s only a little nervous about it. It’s not that she thinks this might actually become something that comes between her and her best friend of a century and a half, not really, but it still feels like it’s best to nip it in the bud before it actually has a chance to.

Raven swore up and down that this wasn’t going to turn into one of her monster bashes, and Clarke is surprised to find that it’s true – when they arrive, it’s basically the same group that were at dinner a week ago, plus Murphy, Emori, and, of course, Octavia and Lincoln.

“He lives!” is Murphy’s greeting, and Emori smacks him lightly over the head. “What, everyone knows what’s happening, right?”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be so blunt about it,” Emori tells him with a sigh.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Bellamy assures him, patting Jasper – who launched himself at him the moment they entered the room and still hasn’t let go – on the back.

There’s a lot of hugging for a while, happy exclamations of how glad everyone is, and it takes a moment before Clarke realizes Raven’s not present.

“Where’s your better half?” she asks Zeke.

“She said it was a frozen margarita evening,” he replies with a shrug. “So kitchen.”

She squeezes Bellamy’s hand to get his attention and then nods in the direction of the hallway. He smiles, squeezes back quickly before letting go of her hand, and turns back to Harper and Monty.

Raven’s at the kitchen counter, pouring tequila into a blender, and Clarke wraps her arms around her from behind, leaning her chin against her friend’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey, babe.” She puts the bottle down and smacks a kiss on Clarke’s temple before pulling away to open the fridge and find lime juice. Clarke leans against the counter instead, watching in silence until Raven has added all the ingredients.

“Are you OK?” she then asks.

Raven turns around to give her an incredulous look. “Me? You’re the one who’s just been through an emotional rollercoaster. I should be asking if you’re OK, not the other way around.”

“Yeah, but…” Clarke hesitates, looking down at her hands. After a moment, she hears the blender turn on and then Raven leans against the counter next to her, nudging her shoulder. “I was thinking about what you said the other day, how I… I got him back.”

She looks up in time to see realization dawn on Raven’s face. “Ah.”

She has to look away again, not able to meet Raven’s eyes as she continues. “I just… I’m so happy, happier than I’ve ever been, but I feel guilty too, because why do I get this when you…”

“Hey,” Raven cuts her off, squeezing her hand. “Don’t even think like that, OK? I am so happy for you, both of you, you have to know that.”

She does, of course. That doesn’t stop the niggling guilt in the pit of her stomach when she looks at Raven.

“No, I know that, I just…”

“No.” Raven shakes her head. “I’m not going to say that there wasn’t a time when I would have given anything to get Finn back. You were there, you know that much. And yeah, I still… I don’t miss him, not exactly, but sometimes I still see something or hear something and I think, ‘oh, Finn would love to hear about this’. And that sucks.

But we had our time together, more than forty years. And it didn’t feel like enough at the time, of course not, but… looking back, I can see that. And even if he did get the opportunity to come back, I don’t know if he would have taken it. And that’s OK.

But you and Bellamy? You guys were just getting started. Your time wasn’t supposed to be up yet. And I am so glad it wasn’t, because you deserve this, both of you.”

Clarke thought she had convinced herself that she and Raven would be fine, but hearing her actually say it makes it obvious that she really hadn’t – it’s such a relief that she feels tears start rolling down her cheeks. Raven wipes a few of them away with a half-smile. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Clarke shakes her head. “No, these are… not happy tears, not exactly, but… relieved, maybe? I didn’t really think you’d be upset about this but I just… I don’t want it to get between us somehow, OK? You’re my best friend, I can’t lose you. Not over something that’s… basically the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Raven pulls her into a tight hug. “Good thing you’re not going to then.”

They stay like that, clinging to each other, for a few long minutes, before Raven pulls away, surreptitiously wiping away a few tears of her own, and goes back to the frozen margaritas.

“Hey, did you consider that this actually might not have anything to do with you?” she asks after a moment, pouring the drink into a pitcher and starting a new batch.

Clarke frowns. “That what has nothing to do with me?”

“Bellamy being recruited,” Raven clarifies. “I mean, obviously the whole keeping his memories thing is for your, and his, benefit, and the extra time you got that day as well… maybe in case he decided to move on or agreed to go back without insisting on keeping his memories. But they could have already been planning on recruiting him.”

Clarke tries to think it through objectively, which is of course completely impossible. She can’t just turn off the feelings. But it does sort of make sense…

“I guess you’re right,” she finally says. “Especially with what that guy or whatever told Bellamy, that they’ve been having trouble recruiting lately.”

“Exactly,” Raven agrees. “If you think about it like that, he’d actually be an ideal candidate – barely any family, just a sister who lives in a different country, not that many friends, especially not before you two met, basically no social media presence. A year ago, they could have wiped his memories and put him on the other side of the country without having to worry about his past life catching up with him.”

Clarke hums. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Hey, what’s happening with the margaritas?” Zeke asks, coming into the kitchen.

“Almost done,” Raven replies, starting the blender.

Knowing that she and Raven are fine makes it easier for Clarke to relax, and while she definitely doesn’t get drunk, she does drink a couple more margaritas than she had planned and by the time they’re leaving, she’s pleasantly buzzed, leaning a little on Bellamy, who’s completely sober since he’s driving.

“Did you have a good night?” he asks when they’re making their way to the car, Octavia and Lincoln some ways behind them.

“Mmm, I did,” she assures him with a smile.

“You and Raven work through whatever it is you’ve been worrying about?”

She pulls away enough that she can frown up at him. “How did you know about that?”

He chuckles and squeezes her tighter. “Come on, Princess, I know you pretty well by now. Every time you’ve gotten a text from Raven in the last few days, you’ve been frowning and biting your lip. I knew something was up.”

“You’re way too perceptive,” Clarke complains, leaning her head against his shoulder. “But yeah, we talked. I didn’t actually have anything to worry about, but you know me…”

He just hums, doesn’t push, probably because he knows he doesn’t need to.

“I was feeling guilty,” she continues after a moment.

It’s obviously not what Bellamy was expecting, because he actually stops and turns to face her, a confused look on his face. “Guilty? For what?”

She shrugs. “Just… I got you back. Raven, she…”

“Oh.” He pulls her into his arms, his lips brushing against her hair. “You know none of that is your fault, right?”

“I know, yeah.”

“Hey, what’s the hold-up?” Octavia calls, and she and Lincoln join them a moment later.

“No hold-up,” Clarke says, stepping out of Bellamy’s arms and claiming one of his hands instead. “Come on, time to go home.”

-100-

Octavia wanted to go to Aurora’s grave while they were in town, and claimed it was something she and Bellamy needed to do on their own, so the siblings head out early on Sunday morning for the drive to Paterson, while Clarke and Lincoln spend the day at the Met, indulging their love of art. When the Blake’s get back, they grab dinner before it’s time to take Octavia and Lincoln to the airport.

They’ve already made plans to spend Christmas in Ireland, so for the first time, it’s a completely normal farewell – Bellamy still hugs Octavia for long enough that she starts squirming, but they’re both smiling when they pull apart.

“You’re still a weirdo,” she tells him, but it’s fond.

“Always were, I don’t know why you thought that would change,” he shoots back, turning to Lincoln and offering his hand. “Thanks for taking care of her, man.”

Lincoln just nods and shakes his hand, but Octavia bristles. “I can take care of myself, Bell.”

“I know,” he assures her. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t let someone else do it now and then, OK?”

Her eyes stay narrowed for another moment, but then she sighs. “Fine, I guess you’re right. OK, we’re going.”

“OK, have a safe flight,” Bellamy says. “Call when you land?”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “It’ll be the middle of the night, I’ll _text_ when we land. That way you can get your weird protective urges satisfied, and I won’t wake up your poor wife who just wants to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Are you OK, though, really?” Clarke asks when they’re on their way back home a little later.

Bellamy’s driving, and he does _look_ relaxed – he rolled down the window before they started and has one hand hanging outside, is singing along with the radio under his breath when a song he likes comes on.

At her question, he glances at her with a frown. “I’m fine, why?”

“Just wanted to make sure that saying goodbye to your sister hadn’t turned into some… emotional trauma or something,” she replies with a shrug.

“Nah, I’m good. Plus, we’ll see them again soon.”

He’s right, of course. “No, I know, just… like I said, I wanted to check in.”

“I’m fine, really.”

He flashes her a quick smile before focusing on the road again, getting on Cross Bay Boulevard that’ll take them back home. The sun has almost set, the last few rays still illuminating the sky to the west, the end of another beautiful summer day.

“Listen, I was thinking,” Bellamy says, breaking the silence after a while. They’re just passing Forest Park where a bunch of kids are still playing in the baseball field despite the darkening skies. She can’t hear them, but she can imagine the shouts and laughter.

“That’s always dangerous,” she teases, smirking when he rolls his eyes.

“Mature. Anyway, maybe we should… I don’t know what you call it, activate ourselves in the Keeper app?”

Clarke frowns at the question, but it makes sense, really. If this had been a ‘normal’ Keeper/mentor situation, Bellamy would have already started his training, not quite from day one but definitely by now. And now that Octavia and Lincoln have left, there’s really nothing stopping them from actually getting to work.

“That might be a good idea, yeah,” she agrees. “It’ll still take a week before we get any Transfers, though, since they’re assigned a week in advance, but yeah.” Since they still have forty-five minutes or so left of the drive, she opens her app to adjust her availability right away. “There, done. Yours might get updated automatically, I’m not sure, we’ll check when we get home.”

“Great.”

She slides down a little in her seat, popping her feet up on the dash and leaning her cheek against the headrest, watching Bellamy openly.

“What?” he asks after a few minutes. “Something on my face?”

“Nope. I just like watching you.”

He opens his mouth, as if about to say something, but closes it again and reaches for her hand.

“Did you and Octavia have a… nice is probably not the right word,” Clarke starts after another silent moment. “A good day today?”

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he considers the question. “I think it was good, yeah. O wasn’t… she never really went to the cemetery before she left, just for Mom’s birthday and holidays and stuff, when I basically dragged her, so I think it was good for her to actually sit down and… I know ‘talk’ sounds weird, but…”

“No,” she interjects. “I don’t think that’s weird at all. Not that… I obviously don’t know what it’s like…” She had thought about it, though. If she’d be able to visit his grave at all, if she’d be able to talk to him like that… gratitude at never having to find out surges up inside her, making a lump form in her throat. She swallows it down before she continues. “I think it’s probably good, if you can do that.”

Bellamy’s fingers are still interlaced with hers and he squeezes her hand now, probably picking up on what she’s not saying.

“Yeah, I think she realized that too. I took a walk, wanted to give her some privacy, but she… OK, she was crying when I got back, but I think it was good crying. She looked lighter, somehow.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. And we stopped by Miller’s parents’ place before heading back, they just got home yesterday. His mom’s always had a soft spot for Octavia, I think she saw her as the daughter she never had, so she was thrilled. It was nice.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiles and lets her hand go to wrap an arm around her shoulders instead, pulling her closer, and she happily settles in for the rest of the drive with her head on his shoulder.

“There’s probably another reason I’m actually OK with O and Lincoln leaving,” Bellamy picks up their previous conversation after a while.

“Yeah?”

He huffs. “This is going to sound… I don’t know, weird? Bad maybe?”

Clarke turns to press a kiss to his shoulder before settling in again. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know, yeah.” He pauses, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he thinks it over. “I think… I mean, it’s been great seeing her, getting to hang out, and I’m definitely looking forward to doing that again, hopefully on a somewhat regular basis. But… I feel like what she is in my life has… shifted. Does that make sense? She’s still my sister and I’ll always love her, but… her entire childhood, she was basically my whole life. My reason for doing… everything, pretty much. Sure, we had Mom, but she was always working or out or… so it was always just me and O. I think that’s why it was so hard on me when she actually left, because for a long time it felt like I didn’t have a purpose anymore. Who was I, if I wasn’t Octavia’s big brother, if I wasn’t taking care of her?”

It tugs a little at her heart, to hear him put it into words, but it’s good that he’s come to this conclusion on his own, so she doesn’t comment.

“But now, it’s… she’s my sister, and that’s enough. She doesn’t have to be my whole life, I don’t have to define myself based on her anymore. She has a great life, a great boyfriend, and she’s happy. I can call or text her when I want, and we can go visit them a couple of times a year, and they can come here, and that’s… that’s how it’s supposed to be, you know?”

“It is how it’s supposed to be,” she agrees. “Not that I’m an expert or actually have any siblings of my own, but, you know.”

Bellamy laughs a little, a low chuckle that makes his chest rumble.

“Glad that you agree anyway.”

“I basically always agree with you.”

“That’s definitely not true.” His thumb brushes against her skin, slipping under the arm of her t-shirt briefly. “You know another bonus of not having my sister and her boyfriend staying with us anymore?”

The way his voice has dropped half an octave or so makes it easy to figure out at least in what direction he’s going, but she decides to play dumb. “No, what’s that?”

“Sex anywhere and anytime we want.”

She can’t help but snort at that. “Right, because we have so much sex _outside_ the bedroom normally.”

She realizes, about half a second too late, that she’s making it sound like they’ve had this long, _normal_ relationship with lots of traditional sex _in_ the bedroom, which isn’t really true either. Which… it’s not like she’s been keeping a tally or anything, but she’s pretty sure most of the sex they’ve had has been in a bed. Sure, they had a lot of sex in a lot of different places during their trip, but that was vacation sex – even if they were on an extremely extended vacation – and vacation sex is different. If he notices, though, he doesn’t mention it.

“Then maybe it’s time to start…”

Night has fallen by the time they get home, and the apartment is dark, apart from the streetlights shining in through the window. Clarke flips on a few lights, just enough to see where they’re going, and makes a detour to the kitchen to get something to drink.

She hears Bellamy come up behind her when she’s opening a cupboard to get a glass, but still jumps a little when he pulls her hair over her shoulder and leans in to press a kiss to her throat, pushing her up against the kitchen counter with his body.

Her hand automatically slides into his hair to hold him close. “I didn’t realize you wanted to get started on the anywhere-we-want-sex right away,” she teases.

“No time like the present,” he mumbles against her skin, his other hand sliding under her shirt and up to cup her breast through her bra. “Plus, once I started, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’ve never actually fucked you on this counter.”

His words send a thrill through her and she tilts her head, leaning it against his shoulder, to give him better access.

“Well, we’ll just have to rectify that then, won’t we?”

“That’s what I was thinking, yeah.”

His mouth abandons her throat and Clarke takes the opportunity to turn in his arms and pull him down for a proper kiss. He returns it eagerly, deepening it as his hands slide down her sides to lift her up onto the counter. It’s the perfect height, and she immediately wraps her legs around him to pull him closer, the coarse material of his jean shorts rubbing against her through her panties and making her moan into the kiss.

Bellamy seems to want to slow things down, his hands staying anchored on her hips, thumbs brushing her skin. She’s happy to take his lead, at least for a while, enjoying the slide of their mouths together, the heat from his chest warming her even from a few inches apart.

When it’s no longer enough, she starts undoing the buttons in his shirt, one by one, pushing the garment off his shoulders when she’s gotten them all and continuing with the button in his shorts.

“Someone’s getting eager,” he chuckles, shrugging the shirt the rest of the way off before finding the hem of her shirt and pulling it up and off.

“Well, you weren’t moving fast enough,” Clarke retorts, getting the button and zipper and pushing the shorts down his hips, getting his boxers in the process.

“Fuck, I love how bossy you can be during sex,” he exclaims, leaning down for another kiss.

She gets the clasp of her bra undone and tugs him closer, arching her back to press against him, the feeling of skin on skin perfect. A moment later, she feels his hands slide up her thighs, pushing her skirt up, and then his fingers hook in her panties, and together they manage to get them off without too much trouble.

She has to break the kiss to suck in a breath when Bellamy pushes two fingers inside her, curling them up just right to hit that perfect spot. His mouth trails down her throat, kissing and sucking the skin until he gets to her breast, where he pulls a nipple into his mouth.

It doesn’t take long for her to get off like that once he starts rubbing circles against her clit with his thumb, and her muscles are still convulsing when he pulls her forward the inch or so needed for him to be able to slide into her.

“Not even letting me catch my breath, huh?” she gasps, even as she digs her heels into his back to urge him on.

His fingers dig into the skin on her lower back and he bites her shoulder lightly before responding. “Sorry, did you need a moment?”

His tone is teasing, and Clarke retaliates by running her nails down his back a little harder than strictly necessary, making him hiss, and then squeezing her internal muscles around him on his next thrust.

“Fuck, you want this to be over before we really get started?”

She lets out a breathless laugh and pulls his mouth down to hers, fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses her back hard, taking charge of it immediately, nipping at her bottom lip before coaxing her mouth open. Her nails dig into his scalp in a way that must be bordering on painful, and he slides one hand around to grope her breast, twisting her nipple between his thumb and index finger. When she lets out a sound, he picks up his pace, slamming into her hard and deep on each thrust, and soon they’re both chasing their release together.

Bellamy gets there a moment before her, stilling deep inside her, and fumbles a hand between them to push her over the edge along with him.

They stay like that for a long moment, foreheads touching, catching their breath.

“Round two in bed?” he then suggests, kissing her one last time before stepping back and pulling out of her.

She pretends to consider it for a moment as she evaluates the state of her legs. In the end, she decides to risk it and jumps down off the counter.

“Race you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content


	70. Where the Rabbit in the Hat Is Just a Train in the Fog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, how did that happen? There is a short epilogue, I’m hoping to get that up on Wednesday, and then a sequel when I get around to finishing that… but still, it’s almost over. I have no idea what I’m going to do when it is, this has been such a big part of my life for so long now, it’ll be hard to just let it go…
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100
> 
> Chapter title from “New York City” by Among Savages again. We have come full circle

It turns out that Bellamy’s availability does follow hers, at least for now, but they still have a week off, and they definitely make the most of that time. They sleep late, and most days, one of them wake the other up with kisses that turn into lazy morning sex. They do a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon, and then _The Hobbit_ , and _Harry Potter_ , just because they feel like it. They Skype with Rosamie and Danilo and make plans to visit after Christmas and New Years in Dublin with Octavia and Lincoln. They go to Shakespeare in the Park and watch _Coriolanus_ , Bellamy complaining under his breath about the actors’ pronunciation and the less-than-accurate scenery the whole time. They spend a day in the Hamptons, getting away from the heat in the city for a little bit.

Bellamy’s assigned his first Transfer on Sunday morning – _Emily Hartford, female, 92. COD: Coronary artery disease_. It seems like a pretty good first case, the coordinates indicate a nursing home in Williamsburg, not too far from them. He suggests they walk, but Clarke knows how tired he’s going to be after and insists on driving.

“We don’t need to go inside, right?” he mumbles when they’ve parked outside the building. “Might be suspicious.”

“No, we’ll be fine out here,” she assures him.

There’s a park bench just outside the entrance to the home, which would normally be her first choice, but given it’s Bellamy’s first time, she’s already decided that they’re going to stay in the car.

“In the car?” he asks a little amusedly when she tells him as much.

She turns the engine off and shifts so she’s facing him. “Which one of us is the expert on this, huh? I know what the first Transfer is like, I don’t particularly want to drag you back into the car after. You’re pretty heavy and I’m really not strong enough.”

He pales a little at that and she wishes she’d been a little more… delicate about it.

“It’s that bad?”

Clarke considers the question for a moment, trying to find the right words that will put his mind at rest but not downplay what he’s about to experience.

“It’s intense,” she finally starts. “I know I’ve said that before, but that’s really the best word for it. Even if this woman’s had a completely normal life, she’ll still have experienced loss – grandparents, parents, maybe siblings or partners, considering her age. I obviously didn’t have any memories like that of my own to draw from when I started out, but… imagine how you felt after your mom died and then multiply that by a hundred.”

“Shit.” He rubs a hand over his face. “That doesn’t sound fun _at all_.”

“And you’re going to feel like you’ve… I don’t know, run a marathon, on your hands, backwards, while solving Sudoku puzzles and listening to one of those peppy gym instructors and, like, five different songs at the same time. Just completely exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally. Hence staying in the car.”

“OK, yeah, good plan.” Bellamy takes a deep breath and leans back in the passenger seat, closing his eyes. The clock on the dashboard indicates that there’s a minute left.

“Ready?” she asks quietly.

“After all of that?” He opens one eye to look at her, but his mouth is tugging up on one side. “Never.”

“Well, ready or not…”

He huffs a laugh and closes his eye again, and she reaches for his hand, taking it into both of hers, trying to provide whatever support she can.

It’s definitely not obvious to an outsider when it starts. Bellamy tenses, back arching off the car seat a little, but his eyes are closed and he’d probably look like he’s taking a nap or something if someone was passing by.

It’s over in just a few seconds. It’s been a while since Clarke was with another Keeper during a Transfer, she had honestly forgotten how quick the process actually is. It feels like it goes on for much longer when you’re the one doing it.

There’s a moment after he opens his eyes again when she can see him returning to himself, his mind slotting back into itself, processing what he just experienced.

She pulls him in before the tears start, and he buries his face against her throat, huge sobs making his entire body shake.

She’s not sure how long they sit there, it might be five minutes, it might be an hour. Eventually, though, Bellamy pulls away, wiping at his wet cheeks.

“Fuck, that was…” he starts, voice shaking, but trails off.

“I didn’t manage to prepare you?” she asks.

“I’m not sure anything you said could have prepared me for that,” he admits, letting out a deep sigh and leaning back. “Is it always like that?”

“It’ll get easier,” Clarke assures him. “I mean, it’ll take a while, but it will.”

“Thank God. And I don’t even think her memories were that bad, you know? They were mostly happy, actually, except for her parents’ deaths and a sister, a couple of years ago.”

“Yeah, it’s… the happy memories are draining too, though not as much as the sad ones. I think it’s basically that you get all these memories, a whole life-time worth, in just a few seconds. It’s emotional overload.”

Bellamy just nods, eyes sliding closed, and she takes that as a sign it’s time to head home.

He’s still shaky when they get there, has to lean heavily on her on the walk from the car to the elevator and then to the apartment, and once she’s deposited him on the couch – Bastet immediately jumps into his lap and starts purring, being comforting in her own way – she finds some Ben & Jerry in the freezer.

“Ice cream?” he asks when she sits down next to him and hands him a spoon.

“Sugar,” Clarke replies. “You need to get your energy levels back up, I’ve found ice cream is the most efficient.”

He obligingly digs into the ice cream and lets out a content sigh at the first mouthful. “OK, yeah, that does feel good. So I guess this is why I only have one Transfer every other day right now?”

She nods, swallowing down her own spoonful of ice cream before responding. “Yeah, I think that’s standard. You’ll probably feel better within, like, an hour, but it takes some time to recover fully in the beginning. They don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

She turns the TV on and they watch _Brooklyn 99_ as they finish the ice cream – it was only about half full to start with, and they’ve earned it.

Their schedules for the next week seem to have been synchronized, in that Bellamy has one assignment every other day and Clarke has two or three on opposite days, so they don’t actually have anything else to do today. Which is just as well – ten minutes after they’ve finished the ice cream, he falls asleep, head lolling back against the couch. She tucks a blanket around him and turns the sound on the TV down a little, and settles in for the foreseeable future.

When her stomach starts rumbling, she orders Thai and waits until ten minutes before it’s supposed to be delivered to gently shake Bellamy awake.

He blinks against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, as if surprised it’s still the middle of the day, and then stretches. “How long was I out?”

“An hour and a half or so,” Clarke replies, getting up off the couch. “I ordered lunch, it should be here soon.”

“Mmm, awesome.”

He’s still on the couch, eyes closed, when the doorbell rings, but gets up when she returns with the food. He still seems a little unsteady on his feet, but doesn’t have too much trouble moving from the couch to the dining table, so she fights back the urge to offer her help.

They move back to the couch after they finish their lunch, and even though Bellamy doesn’t fall back asleep, they’re both only half-awake when Clarke’s phone makes them jump a couple of hours later.

“Who’s emailing on a Sunday?” she grumbles, reaching for her phone.

“Etsy order, maybe?” he suggests through a yawn.

She slumps back against him and unlocks her phone. “I haven’t actually deactivated vacation mode on there, I should probably do that.”

“Then it’s probably spam or something,” he concludes. “How to make a thousand bucks every day from the comfort of your own couch, or, you know, knock-off Viagra ads.”

“Or I’ve won a billion dollars in a lottery I never entered,” she adds, but frowns when she gets her inbox open.

“What?” Bellamy asks, noticing of course.

“It’s from the account I usually get relocation info from,” she replies. “But I’ve only been here for a little over a year, it’s not time to move yet…”

Her finger hovers over the email, which doesn’t have a subject line. It’s the only email address she’s ever known for whoever is in charge of the whole Soul Keeper organization, the one she used to get assignments from before they switched to the app.

Probably the one mentoring assignments come from, these days, though she wouldn’t know since the last person she mentored was a guy called Gabriel in the nineties.

Possibly the one she’d get a message from if there had been some sort of misunderstanding, or if they’d changed their minds… but they can’t do that now, can they? Bellamy’s already started ‘working’, if they were going to go back on the whole thing, they wouldn’t have bothered assigning him his first Transfer…

“Are you waiting for it to do something?” he asks curiously, pulling Clarke out of her musings. “I’m pretty sure just staring at it isn’t going to open it.”

She elbows him in the chest but does click to open the email, closing her eyes for a brief moment as it loads and taking a deep breath.

The greeting is the same as always: _Dear Miss Griffin_.

The rest of the email, though, is something new.

_Before all else, allow us to apologize for any distress the recruitment of Mr. Blake caused you. As you are doubtlessly aware, this process typically involves the new Soul Keeper being divested of the memories of their previous life, in which case Mr. Blake would have been assigned to a different post. His refusal to let that happen, and insistence that he be allowed to not only retain his memories but be reunited with you, is a situation that we have never been faced with before, and it did take us some time to come to an agreement on how to handle it. Allowing all of this was not an easy choice, but, we believe, the right one for everyone involved in this particular case. If we had known that this would happen before the fact, we might have been able to alert you both of what was going to happen, but as that was not the case, we had no choice but to let the events unfold more or less as planned. We also did not have the option to let Mr. Blake make the transition to Soul Keeper before his mortal life ended, as a requisite for holding that position is that one has indeed passed on from the living._

“Huh,” she says.

“What?” Bellamy asks, frowning at her. “What do they want?”

“Apologize, I think?” she replies, the words coming out as a question. “For ‘any distress’ this whole situation caused me, apparently. You can read yourself if you want.”

He snorts and leans in to do just that, and she continues reading too.

_As you must have realized by now, we have not assigned another Soul Keeper as Mr. Blake’s mentor, assuming that you would prefer to take on that role yourself. If that is not the case, do let us know as soon as possible and we can arrange for someone else to take this duty over. If you are both content with the situation, you may simply proceed as you have been, and we will be back in touch when the time comes for you to be relocated. We assume you and Mr. Blake will prefer to be assigned together in the future, but if that should change, you only have to notify us and we will act accordingly._

“Jesus, are they stuck in the nineteenth century or something?” Bellamy mumbles. “It’s like reading Dickens.”

Clarke can’t help but snort at that. “I assume they’re… eternal or whatever. They probably have templates that aren’t updated very often.”

“Yeah, but still. They would have had to digitize everything in the last twenty-five years or something, they couldn’t have modernizes the language while they were at it? And it’s a pretty unique situation, you really think they have a template for it?”

She considers that for a moment. “OK, probably not.”

They both focus back on the email again.

_If you have not already come to this conclusion, we can disclose that Mr. Blake has been allowed to retain his old identity, including social security number, bank accounts, and all personal identification papers and credit cards._

_Some intervention was required to make this possible – the memories of anyone not in your and Mr. Blake’s closest circle who were involved in the incident on July 27 th and 28th have been altered, and there is no official record of this ever having happened. _

“Which we already knew,” Bellamy points out, and she hums in agreement.

_Lastly, we understand that four people have been made aware of Mr. Blake’s new status. We did assume this was going to happen when we chose not to alter the memories of said people, but we do hope that this will not lead to any trouble. Needless to say, the world at large needs to remain ignorant of the existence of our kind, though we of course do support revealing your secret to those close to you who you trust to keep it. We will also much appreciate you and your loved ones not spreading the word of Mr. Blake being allowed to retain his memories – though we do not rule out this happening again, it will not be the new norm going forward, and we would prefer it if the Soul Keeper community at large is not aware of this._

The email isn’t signed, not that Clarke expected it to be.

“So, the gist of that was to keep our mouths shut, right?” Bellamy says after a moment. “Did I get that right?”

She sighs and closes down the email app. “Basically, yeah. I mean, not that I was planning on bragging about it or anything, but some people will find out, that’s inevitable.”

“Well, at least we know everything is more or less on the up and up,” he continues, and she realizes that he might have also been worried that maybe this wouldn’t last. “I’m obviously not the expert here, but it doesn’t sound like a threat, right? I mean, they obviously don’t want us to talk about it, but there’s no ‘keep quiet or else’?”

“No,” she assures him without really thinking it through, but she realizes that she means it. “If they really didn’t want people to find out about this, they wouldn’t have let it happen. They’re even saying that it might happen again, so maybe they’re realizing that the world is changing. You can’t just… erase someone’s memory and put them on the other side of the country or even the world and just not expect them to ever encounter someone from their old life anymore. The world is getting more interconnected every day. Maybe you’re the first one of a new generation of Soul Keepers.”

Bellamy snorts. “You know that’s exactly what they said _isn’t_ going to happen, right?”

“Yeah, but they may not be able to stick to that.”

“True.”

Clarke puts the phone away again and gets comfortable, her head on his chest. “So we’re staying here the rest of the day, right?”

“I’m feeling better, give me a couple more hours and I can probably muster up enough energy to cook, if you want. Or we could go out to dinner?”

“Nah, it feels like a get take-out delivered kind of day.”

He laughs but doesn’t object, just tugs her even closer and brushes his lips against her hair.

Bellamy seems more or less back to normal on Monday morning, still a little tired, but he gets out of bed when Clarke does in the morning, and when she leaves to get to her first Transfer a little before noon, he’s on the couch playing video games, Bastet asleep in his lap.

Her Transfer is nothing out of the ordinary, a middle aged woman who’s led a pretty standard life, and she picks up lunch on the way home. Bellamy insists on accompanying her to her second Transfer in the early evening, saying he needs to get out of the apartment and get some air, and since it’s a nice night, they then decide to stroll around Tribeca for a while, grabbing dinner before taking the subway back home.

“There’s a meteor shower tonight,” he says, deliberately casual, when they’re walking from the station.

“Yeah?” Clarke replies, eyes straying to the sky that’s darkening but still not completely dark. Not that it ever gets really dark in the city.

“I don’t know how much we’ll be able to see here, but we might catch some, at least,” he continues. “It would obviously be better to get out of the city, but you have to drive for a while to get to a place that’s dark enough.”

He has his second Transfer tomorrow, but not until late afternoon, so it’s not like they have to get up early or anything.

“We could do that, right?” she says. If she hadn’t been glancing at him, she might have missed the way his mouth turns up at the corner.

“I guess so, yeah. If you want.”

“I want, yeah. We can pack a blanket and some snack, have a late night picnic.”

“That does sound nice.”

So they go back home and Clarke finds an old blanket she doesn’t mind getting dirty while Bellamy packs whatever he thinks a nighttime picnic requires in the kitchen. The temperature’s still in the mid-seventies, so it’s not exactly cold, but she still changes out of the dress she’s wearing and puts on some comfier clothes. It’s been a while since she last checked out a meteor shower, but she does remember it involving watching the sky for long stretches at a time, and she’d rather be comfortable.

“Ready?”

She turns to find Bellamy in the doorway to the bedroom, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Ready.” She waits until they’re in the car to ask where they’re going. “And don’t even bother trying to tell me you didn’t have a plan for this, just in case I said I wanted to do it.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it.

“Some of the state parks on Long Island are staying open,” he starts. “The closest one is Jones Beach, but that’s, like, an hour and forty minutes’ drive or something. I figured we’ll be fine as long as we get down to the coast, away from the city, so I was thinking we just head down to Rockaway. That’s just an hour or so, and it might be less crowded than the parks, since they’ve advertised they’re staying open just for this.”

“Sounds good.”

She turns on the radio and rolls the windows down, and they spend the hour long drive singing along to old classics.

The parking lot at Jacob Riis Park is nowhere near full, but Clarke’s pretty sure there are a lot more cars here than there usually is at eleven thirty on the average Monday night, even in the summer. There seems to be some sort of impromptu party at one end of the beach, so they head in the opposite direction, past the crescent of the beach until the party is no more than the base thumping in the distance.

They pass a few others with the same idea – a family with twin girls who look to be around eight, a middle aged couple who are sharing a bottle of champagne, and a group of twenty-something’s who seem to be making up rules for a meteor themed drinking game.

They continue for another twenty yards or so past the group until Bellamy apparently finds a spot he’s happy with and spreads the blanket.

“So, what’ve you got in that bag of yours?” Clarke asks, sitting down when he’s done.

“Well, I was working with a slightly limited supply,” he tells her, peaking into the backpack and digging out a Tupperware bowl. When he opens it, she sees that it’s full of Doritos and she has to laugh.

“You seriously packed Doritos in a _Tupperware bowl_?”

He puts the bowl down in the middle of the blanket and digs around some more, coming up with a can of guacamole. “I didn’t want to end up with a bag of Dorito dust, OK?”

“No, that’s… it’s kind of sweet,” she assures him, getting an eye-roll in return.

Next up is a bag of M&M’s, half a bag of chex mix – “Those didn’t warrant a Tupperware bowl?” “Shut up!” – two Newton bars, a couple of bananas, and some Reese’s peanut butter cups.

“Take your pick,” Bellamy says, gesturing at the little buffet.

She reaches for the M&M’s and he grabs a peanut butter cup.

“Drinks?” she asks after a moment.

“Right, almost forgot.”

He produces two soda bottles, handing her one, and they eat in silence for a while, periodically glancing at the sky.

“Time for dessert?” he then asks, and Clarke raises her eyebrows.

“Because M&M’s and Reese’s aren’t dessert?”

“Yeah, fine, you have a point,” he admits, digging around in the backpack again. “I was trying to be romantic, OK?”

When he straightens up again, he has a box of strawberries in one hand and a jar of Nutella in the other.

She really can’t help the smile that spreads on her face and has to lean in for a quick kiss. “Just my kind of romance.”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously.”

They get everything else packed away and lie down on the blanket before digging into the strawberries, dipping them into the Nutella.

The moon is large and bright, but they still manage to spot some shooting stars.

“So what now?” Bellamy asks after some time, Clarke’s not sure how long. Time seems to have lost all meaning here in the dark, with the streaks of light darting across the sky above them.

“You want to start heading home?” she asks, turning her head to look at him.

“No, not _now_ now, just…”

“Oh… you mean life?”

He nods, eyes still on the sky above them. “Yeah. You’ve gotten your Etsy store going again, and I’m assuming you’ll pick up the library shifts at some point too, right?”

She honestly hasn’t thought about it yet – she told them she’d get in touch when she was back and ready to start working again, not giving them any type of timeline, but… it might be nice to get back to the routine she had going before. She did like it.

“I guess, yeah,” she says, turning back to the night sky. She thinks she catches a meteor out of the corner of her eye, but she can’t be sure. “The homework sessions won’t start until school’s back, so I might wait until then, just so I can focus on getting you comfortable with… all of this.”

Bellamy hums, reaching for her hand and interlacing their fingers, his thumb brushing the back of her hand as they both watch the sky in silence.

“You don’t know what you want to do?” she asks when he doesn’t pick up the conversation again. “I mean, not that you _have_ to do anything right now if you don’t want. It takes some getting used to.”

“Honestly? I think I’d go crazy in, like, a month if I had nothing else to do,” he admits.

“So figure out what you want,” she tells him, because it really is that simple. “I never got the impression that the delivery job was some great calling or anything, but you could probably pick that up if you wanted. Maybe not full-time, at least not now, but a couple of shifts a week, maybe.”

“Maybe…”

“Or… school?”

His hand spasms around her fingers and Clarke forces herself to stay quiet as he mulls the question over.

“I mean, I did technically defer last semester,” he finally says. “So I guess I could finish that, at least. Get my bachelor degree.”

“You should,” she tells him. “And then we can look into the teaching certificate program, if that’s still what you want.”

He starts rubbing the back of her hand again, but it takes him a moment to respond. “I could do that?”

She rolls onto her side completely and pushes herself up on her elbow to be able to look at him properly, even though she can’t really see him in the dark. “Of course you could. I mean, a full-time teaching position could be tricky to juggle, but you should definitely get the certification. We’ll figure something out once you have, OK? Maybe you could get something part time, or… I don’t know, do tutoring or something like that?”

When she finally stops talking, Bellamy lets out a short laugh. “OK, you’ve convinced me.”

She settles back down on the blanket. “Good.”

They’re quiet for a moment, until a bright light streaks across the sky.

“See?” he breathes.

“That was a good one,” Clarke replies. “The type of shooting star you wish upon. Did you make one?”

“I wouldn't even know what to wish for.” He turns to her at the same time as she turns to him, and despite the darkness, she knows that he’s smiling. “I have everything I could ever want.”


	71. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re here – the end of the story! At least for a while, I do have a sequel that’s not quite finished yet, it was inspired by a comment from HandOfFlowers from months ago… hoping to wrap it up soonish, though maybe not until mid-January or so, with everything with the holidays and work and stuff... hope you like the epilogue in the meantime!
> 
> I also wanted to take the opportunity to thank each and everyone who has stuck with the story from the beginning, or jumped onboard along the way. Your kind comments and encouragement has been amazing, and I’m so, so grateful for you all!
> 
> I don’t own anything relating to The 100

Clarke closes the front door behind her and is immediately greeted by an annoyed howling. She leans down to scoop up Bastet and scratches her behind the ear.

“Is Bellamy ignoring you, huh?” she asks, knowing full well that the cat’s probably been enjoying belly rubs on the couch up until she heard the key in the lock.

Bastet just purrs in reply. She has a few grey hairs these days, and Clarke realizes with a pang that she must be getting old. The shelter had put her at around three years when Clarke adopted her, and that was eleven years ago.

“I have done no such thing,” Bellamy tells her when she slumps down next to him on the couch, Bastet immediately curling up in her lap. “She was practically asleep two minutes ago, then she heard you and shot away like I’d kicked her.”

Clarke chuckles before leaning over for a hello kiss. She might just have been out for an hour and a half, but they have their routines.

He happily returns the kiss for a moment before pulling back and grabbing the remote, turning down the sound on the TV where some sitcom is on.

“Did you get the email about relocation?” he asks.

She frowns. “Not last time I checked, but I haven’t opened my email since last night… hang on.” She manages to get her hand into her pocket without disturbing the cat, but when she pulls her phone out, Bastet jumps onto the floor with an annoyed huff. “Yup, got it,” she says when she opens her email and finds the message there. It’s the standard text, ‘time has come to move on from your current assignment, if you have any preferences for your new position, do reply to this message and they will be accommodated’.

“Do you have any thoughts?” he asks, voice carefully neutral. But after six years, Clarke knows him too well.

“I’m pretty open,” she replies. “But I’m guessing you have a suggestion?”

He shrugs casually. “I was thinking maybe… Dublin? Could we go there?”

“Of course.”

Honestly, Clarke has been waiting both for the relocation instructions and for Bellamy to suggest moving to Dublin for the last few months. She knew the former was coming, and was pretty sure about the latter.

Octavia and Lincoln got married four years ago, and Bellamy got to walk his sister down the aisle just like he wanted to. About nine months later – a honeymoon baby, according to O – Aurora Amelia Woods was born, though nobody calls her anything but Rory. Since Octavia and Lincoln haven’t wanted to fly with her while she’s little, Clarke and Bellamy usually go to visit them at least four times a year. Rory, who just turned three, absolutely adores her uncle and has him completely wrapped around her little finger.

And with the approaching arrival of Rory’s baby brother at some point in February, it’s really just been a matter of time before Bellamy wanted to cross the pond.

“Really?” he now says, a big smile spreading on his face.

“Yes,” Clarke replies with a laugh. “Did you not read the email? I have told you that we get to choose our assignments if we want to, right? Why would Dublin be out of the question? It’s a pretty big city.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I don’t know, I just didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it wouldn’t work out.”

“It will,” she assures him. “And after that, maybe Belfast? It was a nice city, right? Or the Irish countryside, if you want?”

“You’re saying we can stay there for a while?”

“Absolutely.” She pauses. “I mean, I know it won’t be the same as… but you’d get to watch your niece and nephew, and any future kids O and Lincoln decide to have, grow up. That’s something, right?”

He must know what she’s referring to, even though it’s been over five years since they had the conversation.

“That’s everything,” he tells her with a soft smile. “It’s family, and that’s all I ever wanted.”

Clarke reaches for his hand and squeezes it. “Good. Then Dublin it is.”

She knows that they will eventually have to deal with first Lincoln, and then Octavia, passing away, and with time, their children and grandchildren and so on. That’s the way it is when you don’t age. She has no doubt it will be a horrible experience for both of them, but she also knows that they’ll get through it, because they’ll have each other.

And until then… they have a pretty good life. Bellamy ended up getting first his bachelor degree in history, and then a teaching certificate, and has been working part time at the community center with Miller and Zeke for the last few years, helping mostly older kids with homework and papers, which seems to suit him well. He also offers history tutoring online to college students, which he should be able to continue doing in Ireland, and she’s sure there will be other opportunities as well.

Or maybe he’ll just offer to take care of the kids while Octavia and Lincoln are working for the next couple of years, she’s sure he’ll want to be there for both of them as much as possible, and it’s not like they need the income.

No matter what, Clarke knows that they’ll be happy in Dublin, and wherever they end up going after that. They have each other, and they have their family, and they have their friends.

Ten years ago, she never could have imagined her life turning out like this.

Now, she can’t imagine it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to everyone who has read, commented, left kudos, or bookmarked the story, I hope the epilogue lived up to your expectations! And happy holidays to everyone who celebrates in the next few days!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter warnings: references to death (including a child’s death), suicide, child abuse, car accidents, alcoholism, as well as brief mentions of rape, sexual abuse, torture, the Holocaust, kidnapping


End file.
